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OUTING ADVENTURE LIBRARY 

HUNTING IN THE 
YELLOWSTONE 

w*~<lU~JO-~** by the 

^.q^EARL OF DUNRAVEN 

On the Trail of the Wapiti with 
Texas Jack in the Land of Geysers 



EDITED BY 

HORACE KEPHART 




NEW YORK 
OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 

MCMXVII 



■ V9Z3 



Copyright, 1917, by 
OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 

All rights reserved. 




MAR 28 1917 
If -Iff* 

©CI.A457668 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Introduction „ - . 5 

CHAPTER 

I. Wonderland 23 

II. Off to the Geysers 50 

III. The Crow Tribe 80 

IV. Red Man and White 105 

V. Wapiti and Grizzlies 130 

VI. Vicissitudes 161 

VII. The Hot Springs on Gardiner's River . . . 179 

VIII. To the Yellowstone Falls 192 

IX. The Geysers 219 

X. The Keystone of the Continent .... 245 

XL Tracking Back 288 

XII. Bighorn and a "Blue Moose" 314 



INTRODUCTION 

AMONG narratives of sport and travel in our 
western country during Indian and buffalo days, 
some of the liveliest and most entertaining were 
written by men not "native here and to the manner 
born," but by foreigners whose lust for new scenes and 
strange ventures had urged them from afar. Such a 
one was the Earl of Dunraven, who, in company with 
an ardent fellow-sportsman, Dr. George Kingsley, 
spent a good part of the years 1870 to 1876 hunting 
and fishing in Canada and the western States. 

While on a visit to Chicago, Lord Dunraven was 
shown by General Phil Sheridan the mounted head 
of a superb elk (wapiti), a present from the com- 
mandant of a frontier army post. "My enthusiasm," 
says Dunraven, "rising to a fever heat on a closer 
inspection of the antlers, nothing would satisfy me 
but I must be off at once to the fort." And off went 
the impulsive Irishman, with his English friend, 
carrying a letter of introduction from Sheridan which 
was open sesame to every post on the border. 

Of this first taste of hunting on the plains, Doctor 
Kingsley wrote to his wife: "The officers of the fort 
have given us regular western outfits, which are very 
necessary; and we cannot hunt without a guard of 
soldiers for fear of the Indians, who are inclined to 
be nasty. Our first hunt lasted for fifteen days, out 
by the wildest part of the Platte River, north of the 



6 INTRODUCTION 

station. We killed elk, white-tail and black-tail deer, 
antelope, swans, immense geese, ducks, and small game 
without count. This elk running is perfectly magnifi- 
cent. We ride among the wild sand-hills till we find 
a herd, and then gallop after them like maniacs, cut- 
ting them off, till we get in the midst of them, when 
we shoot all that we can. Our chief hunter is a 
very famous man out West, one Buffalo Bill. To 
see his face flush, and his eyes 'shoot out courage' — as 
his friend and admirer Texas Jack says — is a sight to 
see, and he cheers us on till he makes us as mad as 
himself. One day he and I had seven elk on the 
ground at once, of which number he credited me with 
three, not bad for a beginner. These elk are really 
the great wapiti which you and the children have seen 
so often at the Zoo. The herd out of which we got 
our greatest number contained quite a hundred and 
thirty, a most splendid sight. A few days later we 
saw another herd of at least twice that number. It 
is absolutely impossible to describe the grandeur of 
their rush as they go thundering along. Despite the 
great hardships and the very rough work the sport 
has quite repaid me. We four, Lord Dunraven, 
Buffalo Bill, Texas Jack, and I, killed fifteen elk on 
this trip. We also saw wild horses, but, of course, 
did not hunt them. Soon after our return we fitted 
out again and went south for buffalo. We only 
found two, both of which we killed, Lord Dunraven 
one, I the other. Unfortunately, the men who were 
sent out to bring in the meat, instead of doing so, 
found more buffalo, which they went after in vain. 
They then lost themselves in a most frightful storm, 
got separated, and one is gone altogether; we hope, 



INTRODUCTION 7 

however, that he may yet turn up. This buffalo run- 
ning is very good fun in its way, but I don't think 
I shall care about much more of it — the elk running 
is far finer." 1 

There were vast herds of buffalo about one hundred 
and fifty miles to the southward, and the hunters ex- 
pected to go after them, relying upon the intense cold 
to keep the Indians quiet, but the weather became so 
changeable that they had to give up the idea. The 
Indians were only waiting until spring to make 
war upon the whites, being much incensed by a 
new railroad line which ran right through their 
hunting ground and afforded ready markets for such 
men as Buffalo Bill, who slaughtered the bison by 
thousands for their meat, or often only for the tongues 
and hides. 

These border scouts and hunters were a new type 
to our adventurers, both of whom have left glowing 
tributes to their qualities. Doctor Kingsley wrote : 

"The conversation turns, of course, on Indians, how 
they come down in the spring, and lie in wait in the 
willow beds ready to snap up any straying horse or 
carelessly protected scalp, and then off and away 
with them far into the desert, long before the troopers 
are half-way through their preparations for a pur- 
suit. These troopers — most of them Germans and 
Irish, but with a few deserters from our own army — 
have, indeed, no earthly chance with the nimble, quick- 
witted Indian. The only men who can cope with 
him are men like our friends Buffalo Bill and Texas 
Jack, who know every double and turn of his subtle, 

1 Kingsley, George Henry. Notes on Sport and Travel. 
London, 1900. 



8 INTRODUCTION 

twisty and twiny mind, and hunt him as a nobler 
species of game, in whose killing there is infinite 
credit. By-the-bye, I have not yet introduced you to 
these two perfect specimens of the western professional 
hunter, a race which I had been led to think of as 
existing only in Fenimore Cooper's novels. Not that 
they are of the leather-stocking type — if you want to 
meet him you must go to the wooded parts of Colorado 
or California, where you will find him, silent and ap- 
parently slow, with his ponderous Kentucky rifle, that 
mighty bar of iron, invariably bearing the honored 
name of Hawkins on its lock-plate, which no ordinary 
mortal can 'heft,' spending his life in that delicious, 
observant lounging under the green-wood trees called 
'still hunting' — the style of hunting pursued by Robin 
Hood, Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William 
of Cloudeslee — which is, in its way, to a man who 
loves studying Nature, the most perfect of all sports. 
No, our man is a different being altogether, a man 
of the mustang and the high-peaked Mexican saddle, 
of the lasso and the spurs, a man whose whole soul 
is so full of energy and excitement that it bursts forth, 
ever and anon, into wild singing, and yellings, and 
gallopings, and firings of rifles, from mere speed of 
circulation in the dry-champagne-like air of the prairies. 
His work is done with a rush and a dash, to the 
poundings of hard horse hoofs, and the thunderings 
of hundreds of wapiti and bison. His sport is on a 
gigantic scale, and his returns often enormous, but 
they soon go; everything on the plains is frightfully 
dear, and his very clothing — and he is sure to be a 
dandy if he is worth anything — cuts a most monstrous 
cantle out of the greenbacks which he receives from 



INTRODUCTION 9 

the States — western men always talk of 'the States' 
as a far distant and foreign country — for elk and 
buffalo, black-tail and white-tail, and, best of all 
venison, prong-horn. 

"Buffalo Bill, as to face and feature, is a noble 
Vandyke stepped from its frame. Oh! that I had 
the pen of a lady-novelist to describe his manly 
charms! Half hidden by their long black fringes, 
his large, lustrous eyes so full of slumbering fire, 
which flashes into flame in moments of excitement — 
Jack says that you can 'see the courage shooting 
out of 'em/ when he's charging Indians — his firm, 
sensitive mouth, his delicately molded chin, covered, 
yet not concealed by a pointed beard of silky brown 
untouched by scissors, his pale morbidezza complexion, 
and glory of glories, his magnificent hair, sweeping 
in natural curves over his strong, square shoulders, 
on which the marble column of his neck is poised with 
the grace of an Antinous — aha! that's the man I 
think! 'Todgers could do it when she chose!' 
Really, joking apart, one of the handsomest and the 
best built men I have ever seen. As for his manners, 
they are as perfect as those of the Vandyke would 
have been. I have never met with a more thorough 
gentleman, quiet, calm, and self-possessed, full of 
memories of strange adventures, yet never thrusting 
them too prominently forward, but telling them with 
a quiet earnestness which gives to them a far greater 
reality than any highly-wrought description could 
possibly give. No wonder he has become a western 
hero. Sudden he is, I fear, and quick in quarrel, and 
when aroused he shoots straight, as the nearest town 
can testify, but what then? His life or theirs! I 



10 INTRODUCTION 

heard a legend down in Colorado to the effect that the 
limits of his range were becoming rather restricted 
owing to his little difficulties, and that, like Dick 
Swiveller, he would soon have to go out of town to 
get across the street. Moreover, that there was a 
gentleman traveling with his portrait in his possession, 
so that he might recognize him, and 'shoot at sight/ 
to avenge some relative who had been fired through; 
but these are the mere awe-struck whisperings of his 
delighted admirers. One hears a deal about shoot- 
ing in the States, but unless you go to a low bar, a 
gambling saloon, or a state lottery, purporting to 'get 

up a / you will see precious little of it. 

"Buffalo Bill has two styles of dress: the first, 
which is the one which he usually wears in the settle- 
ments, is of beautifully dressed buckskin, decorated 
with fringes and lappets innumerable, and gorgeous 
beyond description, but, as he well knows, worse than 
useless in the plains; then he, being a member of the 
House of Representatives of his State, thinks fit to 
assume, at times, a civilian and civilized garb — short 
black jacket, black pants, and thin kid side-spring 
boots, which makes him look like the aforesaid Vandyke 
nobleman trying to disguise himself as a steamboat 
steward. For some inscrutable reason he delighteth 
to hunt in this peculiar rig, adding thereto, however, a 
white Texan sombrero, which, when the leaves thereof 
are tied tightly down by a handkerchief knotted under 
his chin, assumes a prudish and poke-bonnet-like ap- 
pearance which entirely unprepares you for the noble 
face and flashing eyes which suddenly appear at the 
end of its tunnel when he turns the apparatus end on 
towards you. By the way, the first time that I met 



INTRODUCTION £1 

Bill and Texas Jack — they had just been burnt off the 
prairies and were thirsty — they were both attired in 
fringed buckskin trousers and black velveteen shooting 
jackets of the real old keeper cut — I often wondered 
what became of those said jackets, I never saw them 
again. Were they taken off in a little difficulty and 
'smushed' by the gentlemanly barman, or how? Do 
tell! — Of the many marvelous deeds done by Buffalo 
Bill, it is not for me to write ; are they not all related, 
more or less badly, in the dime novels beloved by 
western men ? I have only to say that he got his title 
when killing buffalo for the Kansas Pacific Railroad, 
when it was his custom to bring in a buffalo's tongue 
for every cartridge which he took out with him. 

"Come forth! O Texas Jack, known in the South 
before the war as J. Omohondro, Esq.; and would 
that a better hand than mine were here to paint your 
portrait! If Buffalo Bill belongs to the school of 
Charles L, pale, large eyed, and dreamy, Jack, all life, 
and blood, and fire, blazing with suppressed poetry, is 
Elizabethan to the back-bone ! He too is an eminently 
handsome man, and the sight of him in his fringed 
hunting buckskins, short hunting shirt decorated with 
patches of red and blue stained leather, pair of delicate 
white moccasins embroidered by the hand of some 
aesthetic and loving squaw, with his short, bright 
brown curls covered by a velvet cap with a broad gold 
band around it, would play the very mischief with 
many an eastern girl's heart. He, however, has his 
love and his longings out here, the pale maiden who 
lives down on the Median River, who rides like a 
chipney, writes poetry by the yard, shoots pistols as 
well as Jack himself — and he is the best shot in the 



12 INTRODUCTION 

territory — and is altogether the proudest, tenderest, 
coldest, lovingest, most inscrutable darling to be 
found on 'God A'mighty's footstool/ I thought 
also that this wild huntress of the plains lived only 
in the romances of Mayne Reid and the dime novels, 
but here she is, warm flesh and blood, as wild and 
as strange and as full of contradictions as the most 
Bourbon-inspired novelist ever dreamt of. I have 
long had a fancy that one could find everything that 
one can imagine somewhere in the world, if one could 
only search long enough, and the more I travel the 
more do I find myself becoming convinced of the truth 
of my own theory, which is not the case with all 
theorists, I think. 

"Jack raves poetically as we canter along side by 
side, and on one of us remarking what a deal of 
beauty there is in the most plain prairie, he bursts 
out, 'Ah! you should see it in the spring-time, with 
the antelopes feeding in one direction, the buffaloes 
in another, and the little birdies boo-hooing around, 
building their nesties, and raising hell generally !' 

"Jack, being a southern man, thinks it necessary 
to suppose that he has Indian blood in his veins, a 
very popular idea in those parts. 1 If he has, he is 
rather rough on his relatives, for he is deadly on 
Indians. Indian hunting is, in fact, the real pro- 
fession of both Jack and Bill, they being retained as 
trackers, aye, and as fighters too, in the case of 
horses being run from the neighborhood of the fort; 
though, from time to time, they are put in charge of 
a band to see that it does not exceed the limits of its 

1 Referring, no doubt, to real or alleged descendants of 
Pocahontas. — Ed. 



INTRODUCTION 13 

reservation, and to lead it out to the hunt as a shep- 
herd leadeth his flock to the pasture. They have 
the strangest feelings about Indians, these two. 
Though, when on the war path, they would no more 
hesitate to shoot down an Indian off his reservation, 
than they would hesitate to throw a stone at a felo- 
nious chipmunk, they have a sympathy and a tender- 
ness toward them infinitely greater than you will find 
among the greedy, pushing settlers, who regard them 
as mere vermin who must be destroyed for the sake 
of the ground on which depends their very existence. 
But these men know the Indian and his almost in- 
credible wrongs, and the causes which have turned 
him into the ruthless savage that he is, and often 
have I heard men of their class say that, before God, 
the Indian was in the right, and was only doing 
what any American citizen would do in his place. 
It is not so much that the intentions of the U. S. 
Government are not good, as it is that the manner in 
which they are carried out is extremely evil. The 
men who are told off as Indian agents are notorious 
for their wholesale peculations, and for the riches 
which they amass; and the wretched native, driven 
to desperation, and knowing that death is certain, 
chooses to meet it his own way, and makes it as sweet 
as he can with revenge. Buffalo Bill and Texas 
Jack have the same feeling for Indians that the true 
sportsman has for game, 'they love them, and they 
slay them.' They admit that in many respects they 
resemble human beings, but hold that they are badly 
finished, their faces looking as if they had been 
chopped out of red-wood blocks with a hatchet, and 
say that they must never be trusted, friendly or un- 



14 INTRODUCTION 

friendly, and that they must be shot if they will steal 
horses. I remember once shooting a swan, the leader 
of a party of five, two old and three young ones, 
and sending one of the men to recover it. He came 
back to me in quite a melancholy state, and told 
me that the cry of its mate had made him feel so 
sad, 'the poor thing was a-mourning so.' Yet this 
good fellow would describe his shootings of Indians as 
coolly as if he were describing a shot at a rabbit, and 
would have heard the death shrieks of squaw and 
warrior with equanimity, if not with pleasurable ex- 
citement. 

"We can see, even now, the long, low black line 
of smoke with, here and there, a red flicker at its 
base, which shows that the mischief is still in prog- 
ress. O! the unutterable misery and dreariness of a 
burnt prairie; and still worse of the water-courses, 
with the bunches of charred reeds and the scorched 
cotton-trees — the unburnt parts of their bark shining 
a ghastly gray against the black charcoal — and the 
river, all bare and naked, bereft of all the mysterious 
charm which it used to derive from its disappearing 
and reappearing like the bright glance of an eye 
through the shroudings of a mantilla. These fires 
cause Buffalo Bill to sing a kind of war chant in a 
queer sotto voce. This war chant of Bill's is a 
curious affair. You hear begun, with a pale but calm 
and smiling face, a little ditty which never gets be- 
yond the first line, 'On the beach at Long Branch/ 
What happened or did not happen on the beach at 
Long Branch you are never told; the light humming 
goes on, but if you approach close enough you find 
that the libretto is composed of some of the hardest 



INTRODUCTION 15 

and tallest swearing that it has ever been your good 
luck to hear. The effect is mighty old ; and a stranger 
hearing this light-hearted humming might imagine 
that its performer was exactly in the right state of 
mind to welcome with effusion the proposition that he 
should make a little loan of a ten dollar bill — but 
when Mr. Cody is singing his little cusses, look out 
for squalls!" 

On this and on other hunting trips that the Earl 
and the Doctor made together, it was more by good 
luck than from any scruples about taking chances that 
they avoided scrapes with the Indians. Miss Mary 
Kingsley, in a memoir of her father, tells how "in the 
course of these wanderings they shot not only moose 
in the forests of Acadia, but also every other kind of 
living thing that is regarded on the Western Con- 
tinent as being legitimately shootable, with the soli- 
tary exception of their fellow-men." She tells how 
her mother, for months at a time, was kept in an un- 
broken state of nervous anxiety about the Doctor. 
"Letters from him were necessarily scarce, and news- 
paper paragraphs not a bit more reassuring in tone, 
for they took the form of statements that the Sioux or 
some other redskin tribe were on the war-path. In- 
deed the worst shock she ever had was when he was 
away in North America. The last letter she had had 
from him informed her that Lord Dunraven and him- 
self were going to join General Custer on an ex- 
pedition, when there came news of the complete mas- 
sacre of General Custer and his force. A fearful 
period of anxiety followed, and then came a letter 
saying that providentially they had been prevented by 
bad weather from joining General Custer at all." 



16 INTRODUCTION 

The present book by Lord Dunraven describes the 
country of the Upper Yellowstone and narrates the 
adventures of his party in that region during the sum- 
mer of 1874. The hot springs, geysers, and other 
extraordinary phenomena of this "Wonderland" were 
discovered in 1807 by John Colter, a hunter attached 
to the Lewis and Clark expedition, who, after more 
than two years' service with the explorers, had left 
them when they approached civilization on the home- 
ward journey, and struck back into the wilderness 
on his own hook. The hunter's description of the 
amazing things he had found was received with in- 
credulity, and "Colter's Heir' became a synonym for 
preposterous invention. Sometime before 1840 the re- 
gion was visited by Jim Bridger, a trapper afterwards 
famous as scout and Indian fighter; but he, too, was 
laughed at, and his story was scouted as "another 
of Bridger's lies." Twenty or thirty years later, 
some wandering gold seekers confirmed the early re- 
ports; but it was not until 1870 that a scientific ex- 
pedition set at rest all doubts as to the existence of 
this marvelous country and made it known to the 
world. The following year a government exploring 
party under Dr. Ferdinand V. Hayden made a large 
collection of specimens and photographs, mapped the 
region, and then issued an elaborate report which in- 
duced Congress, in 1872, to reserve the area from 
settlement, and create of it a National Park or pleas- 
ure ground dedicated to the benefit and enjoyment of 
the people. 

Of his own trip Lord Dunraven says: 
"Being in the United States during the summer of 
1874, and having two or three months of spare time, 



INTRODUCTION 17 

I determined to pay a visit in the autumn to the far- 
famed region of the Upper Yellowstone, and to judge 
for myself whether the thermal springs and geysers 
there situated were deserving of the superiority 
claimed for them over similar phenomena in New 
Zealand and Iceland. For two or three years — in 
fact, ever since the first vague accounts of the marvels 
to be seen upon its shores had filtered out into the 
world — I had longed to visit the Yellowstone. Its 
lakes had for me a magnetic attraction which drew 
me towards them with an irresistible impulse; and 
there was an atmosphere of mystery enveloping its 
upper waters like a mist, which I eagerly sought to 
dispel. 

"I did not undertake the expedition in the cause 
of science. I do not pretend to anything but a very 
slight acquaintance with natural history, geology, and 
mineralogy. I had no instruments for taking meas- 
urements, nor the time, knowledge, and skill neces- 
sary to make an advantageous use of them. . . • 

"I had, moreover, heard the district spoken of as 
an excellent game-producing country; and the pursuit 
of large game is to me a great delight: but it was less 
for any special design of hunting than for the satis- 
faction of my curiosity and the gratification of my 
sight-seeing instincts that I really decided to attempt 
the trip. 

"I had intended making a somewhat prolonged tour, 
and proposed starting for the Yellowstone Lake from 
Rawlings Springs or some other convenient point on 
the Union Pacific Railway, not far west of Cheyenne. 
Had I done so I might have had something of greater 
interest to narrate. But I was prevented from carry- 



18 INTRODUCTION 

ing out my original intentions by the fact that hostili- 
ties broke out between certain of the Indian tribes 
and the Government, and I was therefore compelled 
to abandon all idea of penetrating to Geyserland from 
the east through mountain passes hitherto untrodden 
by the white man's foot, and to take a more ordinary 
and prosaic route. 

"I must apologize for the fact that nothing hap- 
pened to me or to any of my party. But, so far as I 
am personally concerned, it is useless to pretend that 
anything ever does happen to me. I never have an 
adventure worth a cent; nobody ever scalps me; I 
don't get 'jumped' by highwaymen. It never occurs 
to a bear to hug me, and my very appearance inspires 
feelings of dismay or disgust in the breast of the 
puma or mountain lion. I am not drowned or over- 
whelmed by sudden floods. I don't slide down preci- 
pices and catch by the seat of my breeches on a spike 
just as I am falling over a cliff 40,000 feet high. I 
don't ride for my life, the whirling lasso of a wild 
Comanche just grazing my shoulder; so I have no 
opportunity of describing my mettlesome steed, 'swift 
son of the desert and the simoom.' My dog has never 
caught me by the coat collar just as I was sinking 
for the last time ; so I have no excuse for making 
poetry if I could, and shedding a few tears over the 
faithful companion of my wanderings, lately deceased. 
Savages never throw tomahawks at me or stick my 
best hat full of arrows. It is true that I have often 
been horribly frightened, but generally without any 
adequate cause; and I have suffered fearfully from a 
too liberal admixture of saleratus in my bread, and 
terrible things happened to me in consequence, but 



INTRODUCTION 19 

only in my dreams. I don't get lost for weeks, and 
half starved; neither buff aloes gore me, nor wapiti 
spike me with their antlers. If I drew upon my 
imagination, the draft would probably be returned 
with 'no effects' written across the face of it: or, if 
there was any value to be found, some officious person 
would surely disclose that the notes were forgeries 
or the coin counterfeit. So the reader must reconcile 
him or herself to find in the following pages nothing 
more than a simple, but truthful, description of an 
ordinary humdrum trip. 

"If I have been guilty of technical errors in nomen- 
clature, I pray to be excused; my meaning will, I 
think, in any case be clear. I have not -attempted 
to force into my narrative the typical Western Man, 
or to introduce much of his peculiar phraseology. I 
have also refrained from venturing upon second-hand 
imitations of American humorists, and from attempting 
to portray characters already drawn by skilful de- 
lineators of frontier life. Neither have I filled the 
mouths of my transatlantic characters with expressions 
which are erroneously supposed to thickly interlard the 
conversation of all Americans." 

From the original edition of The Great Divide 1 
(London, 1876) the present editor has excised a mass 
of scientific data quoted from Hayden and other 
sources, as this is no longer up-to-date or interesting 
to the general reader. Sundry political digressions 
also have been omitted, as well as a long account of 
a meeting between U. S. Commissioners and the Crow 

1 This was the title under which the book was pub- 
lished. It has been changed in the present instance in 
order to avoid confusion with the well known play of 
that name by the late William Vaughn Moody. 



20 INTRODUCTION 

Indians. Such condensation is to the reader's ad- 
vantage, as it permits the narrative to flow smoothly 
and without interruption. 

The charm of Lord Dunraven's story is in good 
part due to its frank camaraderie, to the jolly way 
he had of adapting himself to any company and to any 
circumstance, and to his hearty sense of humor, which, 
as often as not, turned the joke against himself. 
Though squatting over a mud-puddle through a 
windy, rainy night, he could chuckle over the situa- 
tion and laugh at the torrent of blankety-blanks from 
Texas Jack. He boasts not of the really good shots 
he made, but tells with gusto of firing from prone 
position at an antelope lying broadside on and missing 
it clean at twenty-five yards! But Dunraven was 
more than a sportsman. He observed Nature with 
the eye of an artist and the soul of a lover. The 
sublime and beautiful in western scenery has seldom 
been portrayed so eloquently, so gracefully as in the 
pages of The Great Divide. 

Horace Kephart. 



HUNTING IN THE 
YELLOWSTONE 



Hunting in the 
Yellowstone 



CHAPTER I 

"wonderland" 

NORTH AMERICA has frequently been com- 
pared disadvantageously, as regards scenery, 
with Europe and the other quarters of the 
globe; and not without reason. Of the western con- 
tinent, the better known and more civilized portions 
are very uninteresting. If I except the Hudson, 
which is lovely, the soft beauty of Lake George, the 
mountainous districts of New England, of Virginia, 
and other spurs and offshoots of the Alleghanies, the 
general character of the country, more especially be- 
tween the Alleghanies and the Rockies, is flat, drearjr, 
and uninviting. Exceedingly graceful is the maize 
plant when its silken tassels droop in the hot sunshine 
amid the dark green curving leaves, yet the eye wearies 
of interminable cornfields bounded by untidy and 
tortuous snake fences. Nothing is more vulgar-look- 
ing and unkempt than recently cleared land. The 
face of Nature, shorn of the beauty of its natural 
covering, looks mean and dirty ; and, as compared with 

23 



24 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

its appearance when clothed with forest, resembles the 
contrast between a man's countenance when disfigured 
by a coarse stubbly growth of a week old and the 
same when adorned with the soft flowings of a patriar- 
chal beard. Blackened stumps stand thickly in the 
foreground amid rocks and weeds, and the forest 
seems to huddle itself back out of reach of the fatal 
ax. The beauty of nature is destroyed, and is not 
succeeded by the artificial beauty of civilization. 

The great plains, though fascinating from their vast- 
ness, and blessed with most glorious sunsets and 
clothed with an exquisitely delicate coloring — so deli- 
cate that it is not appreciated until a long apprentice- 
ship to the prairie has been served, — are, neverthe- 
less, inexpressibly sad and mournful. The mountains, 
grand as they are, cannot for a moment compare in 
shape, form, and general beauty with the Alps. No 
glaciers fill the upper portions of the valleys; the 
thunder of the avalanche is seldom heard. No peaks 
like the Matterhorn astonish with their ruggedness 
the traveler's eye. But the one attribute peculiar to 
the continent is that of vastness. Everything is huge 
and stupendous. Nature is formed in a larger mold 
than in other lands. She is robust and strong, all 
her actions full of vigor and young life. Storms are 
fearful and violent, floods rise and sweep the country 
like seas. Mighty rivers, with fierce ungovernable 
tide, in a night scoop out fresh beds for themselves 
and laugh at man's shackles and restraints, or, in their 
struggles to break the chains that winter has bound 
around them, burst free and carry off, like cobwebs, 
the toilsome results of engineering skill. Lakes are 
seas. There are great deserts almost unknown and 



"WONDERLAND" 25 

unmarked on any map. Through thousands and 
thousands of square miles of primeval forest, dark, 
impenetrable to the sun's rays, the north wind wails 
and whispers; while for days you may travel on the 
plains without seeing a tree, the horizon forming an 
unbroken circle around you. The so-called Rocky 
Mountains extend the entire length of the continent, 
and in places are five or six hundred miles in width, 
comprising many ranges w T hich contain important val- 
leys, and divide great and fertile plains. Through 
these mountain-walls the rivers have burst or sawn 
their way, forming chasms (canons as they are called) 
for which no parallel can elsewhere be found. 

While this attribute of vastness marks the whole 
North American continent, nowhere can you so well 
come in contact with and appreciate it as in the west- 
ern wilds or far-away territories; where Nature is 
very strong and man is very weak, and where the 
powers of science have not yet been called into play, 
to supplement and make up for his feebleness. And 
to no part of the Great West should I sooner advise 
the traveler to go than to that marvelous country 
which I am about in memory to revisit. 

Comprised in the territories of Montana and Wy- 
oming there is a region which contains all the pe- 
culiarities of the continent in a remarkable degree, 
and which, moreover, is exceedingly interesting on ac- 
count of its scenery, its geography, its mineralogy, and 
its sport. Although the altitudes are not so high as 
in other parts of the continent, it may be truthfully 
called the summit or apex of North America. Thence 
the waters flow in all directions — north, south, east, 
and west. There it is that great rivers rise, running 



26 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

through every clime, from perpetual snow to tropi- 
cal heat. On the one side glance the currents destined 
to mingle with the tepid waves of the Gulf of Mexico ; 
on the other up the rapids leap the salmon ascending 
from the distant waters of the Pacific Ocean. It is 
the geographical center of North America. It is es- 
sentially The Great Divide. Roaming at will through 
the trackless wastes that compose and surround this 
region, are to be found the best representatives of the 
fast vanishing aboriginal race. By the great bend of 
the Yellowstone are grouped the tall lodges of the 
gigantic Crows, men of six feet four or five inches 
in height, with long hair reaching in heavy plaits to 
their knees. From Idaho come parties of Bannocks, 
great raisers of stock and traders in horses. Pen 
d'Oreilles, Gros Ventres, Flatheads, Bloods, and Pie- 
gans, warlike Blackfeet, Assiniboins, and Sioux wan- 
der through the hunting grounds seeking their meat 
from God; stealing horses, hunting, and warring 
upon one another in something like their natural free- 
dom. Some of these are very hostile to the pale- 
faces, and much to be dreaded, like the well-armed 
and numerous Sioux, or as they style themselves 
"Dakotas" ; others are friendly to the whites, like the 
Crows, Snakes, Bannocks, and their kindred tribes. 
A few, such as Nez Perces and Bannocks, are semi- 
civilized, cultivating a little land, and raising horses 
and cattle, possessing farming implements, and using 
in war or for the chase the newest fashion in repeat- 
ing rifles and the latest thing out in revolving pistols; 
others, such as Blackfeet and Assiniboins, are primitive 
and unsophisticated, depending in a great measure upon 
their ancient weapons, the bow, the lance, and the 



"WONDERLAND" 27 

club; and subsisting entirely by the chase, — wanderers 
who have their homes far to the north in British terri- 
tory. 

Sorely am I tempted to "switch off" here, and dilate 
upon the manners, customs, rights and wrongs of the 
much-abused, long-suffering, and little-understood Red 
Indian race. Their very appellation is a misnomer; 
their history is one long story of mismanagement, of 
rights withheld, treaties broken, and promises unful- 
filled. With the bright exception of the Amalga- 
mated Hudson Bay and North- West Fur Companies, 
their rulers have taken no pains to comprehend and 
provide for the necessities of their savage natures. 
But, as I know that I shall not be able to resist the 
temptation of alluding to this to me most fascinating 
subject later on when I come to speak of the Crow 
nation, I stay my pen here. 

In this same region are still to be found great 
herds of wapiti — noblest representatives of the deer 
tribe, and soon to be numbered among things of the 
past. In the swampy flats among old beaver dams, 
where willows and alders grow, or among the thickest 
groves of young firs, still lingers the largest of existing 
elks, the moose. Poor Cervus A Ices! your ungainly 
form has an old-time look about it; your very appear- 
ance seems out of keeping with the present day. The 
smoke of the chimney, the sound of the ax, are surely 
though slowly encroaching on your wild domains. 
The atmosphere of civilization is death to you, and in 
spite of your exquisitely keen senses of smell and hear- 
ing you too will soon have to be placed in the category 
of things that have been. In the valleys are both 
white-tail and black-tail deer. On the little prairies, 



28 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

open glades, and sparsely wooded slopes, grazes the 
small mountain bison or buffalo, whose race has also 
nearly vanished from the scene; and not very far dis- 
tant are to be found herds of his congener, the great 
bison of the plains, for down in the Judith basin lie 
the hunting grounds where the Crows go every sum- 
mer and winter in search of the prairie buffalo. In 
summer they kill them for their flesh; in winter they 
utilize their skins to trade with the whites, and to 
make robes and houses for themselves. Prong-horn 
antelopes, the only specimen of the species on the 
continent, and the only known variety in the world 
that carries a branching horn, are very numerous on 
the plains and foot-hills. Clear against the sky line, 
standing on some jutting crag, may not unfrequently 
be seen the massive stately outline of a bighorn or 
mountain sheep, a near relation to the moufflon or 
argali; and far up in the wildest fastnesses of the 
range, among untrodden peaks, wild goats distantly 
allied to the eastern ibex have their inaccessible abode. 
If this list be not sufficient, and if it be considered 
that an element of danger is necessary, the sportsman 
will be glad to hear that nowhere, save perhaps in 
Southern California, will he be more likely to en- 
counter Ursus horribilisj the grizzly bear. If he has 
ever pursued, or been pursued by, that unpleasant 
beast, he will be gratified to learn that, as a rule, 
pine trees are numerous and not difficult to climb. 

It is a fortunate dispensation that the only danger- 
ous variety of the genus in America cannot climb. The 
black bear, it is true, will ascend any tree that he 
can clasp with his muscular arms; but he is a thor- 
oughly reasonable animal, and is fully alive to the 



"WONDERLAND" 29 

cogent logic of a bullet; whereas the grizzly is an in- 
tractable brute. Happily, however, he is no gymnast; 
and from the security of a tree-top a man can laugh 
his adversary to scorn. 

Though game is abundant in many states and ter- 
ritories at certain times of the year, yet, taken as a 
whole, North America cannot for a moment compare 
with India or Africa as a hunting country. I have 
enjoyed pretty good sport occasionally myself, it is 
true; but it is difficult to get; besides, it requires pa- 
tience and perseverance, and entails hard work, and 
even then success is very uncertain; and as there is 
nothing I so much dislike as being misled by accounts 
of the capabilities of a country in a hunting point of 
view, it is better, in order to avoid the possibility 
of myself offending in this respect, to say at once 
that in my opinion a man going to the States or to 
British-American territory for big game shooting, and 
for nothing else, is almost sure to be disappointed. I 
cannot speak from personal experience; but, if the 
enthusiastic accounts one hears from the forests are 
not exaggerated, there can be no doubt that, if he 
can afford it, a sportsman can get far better deer-stalk- 
ing in Scotland than anywhere else. 

On the plains buffalo are still tolerably numerous 
and can always be met with if a man knows the 
right places to go to; but running buffalo ought 
scarcely to be considered a branch of the noble pastime. 
It is exciting; it calls into activity the savage instinct 
to shed blood that is inherent, though it may be dor- 
mant, in every man: but it is scarcely sport. Good 
sport cannot very well be attained without the ex- 
penditure of considerable time and trouble. It takes 



30 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

one a year or two to get acquainted with the coun- 
try, and to learn something of the habits, manners, 
and customs of the wild beasts inhabiting it. And 
without this knowledge success is impossible. I have 
scarcely ever done much good on my first visit to any 
section, but I have managed to find out sufficient to 
ensure my being amply rewarded for my pains on a 
second attempt. Information generally comes from 
such unreliable sources, one hears such contradictory, 
absurd, and exaggerated statements, that it is wiser 
not to depend on local authorities, or indeed upon any 
authority at all, unless one is very well satisfied as to 
its trustworthiness. It is better to make up one's 
mind to spend one season at any rate in investigation, 
and then, if the prospects of sport are good enough 
to warrant the expenditure of much necessary trouble 
and a considerable sum of money, to organize a hunt- 
ing expedition to that district. Take a limited, a very 
limited, portion of the United States, some natural sec- 
tion in the mountains, plains, or valleys, cut off by 
streams or ranges over or across which game are not 
likely to travel; even that area will be so enormous, 
the country will be so big, that unless it is literally 
swarming with deer it may be difficult to find them. 

The herds of game move so much, also, according 
to the seasons. In Estes Park, for instance, near Den- 
ver, you might go out in winter or in early spring, 
when the snow is deep upon the Range, and shoot 
black-tail deer till you were sick of slaughter. I dare- 
say you might — if you knew where to go — sit down, 
and, without moving, get ten, fifteen, or even as many 
as twenty shots in the day. At other seasons you 
might walk the flesh off your bones without seeing a 



"WONDERLAND" 31 

beast of any kind. Yet the deer are somewhere there 
all the time; and, if you can only find out to what 
deep recesses of the forest, or to what high mountain 
pastures they have betaken themselves in their search 
for cool shelter, or in their retreat from mosquitoes 
and other insect pests, you would be amply rewarded 
for your trouble. 

It is the same with the wapiti. Sometimes the park 
will be full of them; you may find herds feeding right 
down upon the plain among the cattle; and in a fort- 
night there will not be one left. All will have disap- 
peared; and, what is more, it is almost impossible to 
follow them up and find them, for they are much 
shyer than the deer. Where do they go? Not across 
the snowy range, certainly. Where, then? Up to 
the bare fells, just under the perpetual snow, where 
they crop the short sweet grass that springs amid the 
debris fallen from the highest peaks ; to the deep, black 
recesses of primeval forest; to valleys, basins, little 
parks and plains, hidden among the folds of the moun- 
tains, where the foot even of the wandering miner has 
never disturbed the solitudes. 

Flying from the sound of the ax and the saw-mill, 
trying to escape from the sand-flies and mosquitoes 
during the summer months, they plunge into fastnesses 
known only to themselves, where it is well nigh im- 
possible to find them, and from which they descend 
only when driven to lower pastures by stress of 
weather. At that season of the year the hunters of 
the country do not look for them, for they could not 
pack the meat down to market from those remote feed- 
ing grounds; and they know that in the winter sea- 
son there will be plenty of game in the foot-hills close 



82 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

to the cities and the railway. The abundance of game 
is testified by the fact that in Denver deer-meat is in 
winter worth from three to three and a half cents a 
pound. 

It is the same nearly everywhere, I believe. In 
Newfoundland the caribou migrate twice a year in 
vast numbers; crossing in the spring to their summer 
feeding-grounds on one side of the Island, and in the 
fall returning to their winter pastures on the opposite 
coast. Two years ago I was near Henry's Fork of 
Green River, in the spurs of the Uintah mountains. 
For about a month or six weeks in the fall, deer and 
wapiti come through the country in large numbers. 
Unfortunately I was too early on the ground, and 
had scarcely any success: but a party that arrived 
shortly after my departure, chancing to hit upon the 
right moment, enjoyed excellent sport. Their move- 
ments being regulated by the seasons, it is impossible 
to predict the arrival of the herds. In an open fall, 
a long delay is to be looked for; if winter, however, 
sets in early, their appearance is accelerated. Alto- 
gether it is a chance to find them, for they do not 
remain long; the bands quickly pass through and are 
gone. The same state of things exists in the Upper 
Yellowstone country, and indeed in nearly every dis- 
trict with which I am personally acquainted. A lo- 
cality where game remains all the year round is hard 
to find. 

Then the face of the country changes very rapidly, 
and the herds are in consequence continually and per- 
manently shifting their ground. Valleys are "settled 
up" — "planted," as would have been said in old 
Colonial days — in a single summer, and wheat-fields 



"WONDERLAND" 33 

take the place of pasture-lands of short curly buffalo- 
grass. Tall maize plants shake their beautifully pend- 
ant dark-green glossy leaves where only a few weeks 
before thickets of coarse reeds and herbage grew. The 
whirr of the thrashing-machine is now heard where 
last year the silence was broken only by the coughing 
of deer, the barking of foxes, and the dismal howls of 
coyotes. I expect I should starve to-day in a place 
where four years ago I saw, I am sure, more than a 
thousand wapiti in one week. Even in a country 
which is not settled, if it is tolerably safe, and if 
small parties of white men can travel through it with- 
out much risk, the game will very soon be driven off 
or exterminated. And what wonder, when they kill 
millions of buffalo for their hides, and thousands of 
deer and wapiti for their skins alone, leaving the bodies 
to rot and fester in the sun? 

Nothing irritates the aborigines so much as this 
wholesale destruction and waste of food. The red 
men are the game preservers of the country. Where 
Red Indians are numerous, you will be sure to find 
herds of wapiti, bands of white-tail and black-tail deer, 
antelope, sheep, buffalo, and everything else. There 
are certain tracts and districts, the marches between 
the hunting grounds of mutually hostile tribes, where 
nobody dares to go to hunt or trap, but across which 
strips of debatable land stealing parties and small war 
parties are frequently passing. That is the sort of 
place to go to if you want to see game ; but there you 
may possibly see more than you bargained for ; you may 
be a hunted, as well as a hunting, animal, and with the 
pleasures of the chase mingle the emotions of the 
chased. 



34 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

As a rule, it may be truthfully said of America, "No 
Indians, not much game; heap of Sioux, plenty of buf- 
falo, elk, and deer." There are exceptions to this rule, 
but not many. 

Another difficulty in the way of the English sports- 
man is, that very few Americans care about what they 
call hunting, and we call shooting, as an amusement. 
There are, of course, exceptions; men who love the 
wilds, and take delight in running buffalo or wapiti, 
or stalking a deer ; and year by year these exceptions are 
becoming more numerous: but, as a rule, the inhabi- 
tants of the United States take their holidays in quite 
a different style, or, if they do indulge in shooting at 
all, go in for prairie chickens and small game. There- 
fore it is not very easy for a stranger to procure re- 
liable and disinterested information. 

Having, I trust, by these few remarks, guarded 
against the possibility of misleading my brother sports- 
men, I will return to Montana. 

It is true that Montana has not fulfilled expectations 
as a gold-producing country, but this is attributable 
not so much to the absence of the precious metals as to 
the fact that communication is difficult and transpor- 
tation laborious. Freights consequently are so high 
that working any but the very richest ores cannot 
possibly be remunerative. When it is considered that 
freights have to be hauled over almost impassable roads 
from Corinne on the Union Pacific Railway, or have 
to ascend the Missouri in boats to the mouth of the 
Mussel Shell, whence they must be transported by 
mule or ox-trains, it is not to be wondered at that 
quartz mining does not pay. 

In the early years of the settlement of the territory, 



"WONDERLAND" 35 

prices ranged almost as hfgh as they did in California 
during the period of great excitement there. Two 
dollars in dust per meal, and a dollar for a feed for 
your horse, were not uncommon prices. Flour reached 
as high as 75 cents per pound; hay was worth 80 
dollars a ton, and all the necessaries of life for man 
and beast were charged for in like proportion. Such 
articles as picks sold at from 15 to 20 dollars apiece. 
Luxuries were ruinous; for lucifer matches, as an 
instance, you had to pay 75 cents or a dollar per 
small box. A friend of mine who put up a crushing 
mill at Stirling told me that he sold for $200 a saddle 
for which he had given $15 in St. Louis. Miners 
were paid $5 per day, with their board and lodging. 

Against such exorbitant prices it was impossible for 
mine or mill owner to stand up. California, on the 
contrary, is practically self-supporting: its soil and 
climate will produce nearly every fruit, vegetable, 
and cereal that is of benefit to man; and it contains 
the finest pasture land in the world for sheep and 
cattle. Besides, it is accessible by sea, and conse- 
quently in that case supply was not long in becom- 
ing equal to demand. But Montana is remote from 
the sea, navigable rivers, and railways. As far as 
facilities of communication go, it is scarcely better off 
now than it was ten years ago, and the result is that 
prices, although they have declined, are still exces- 
sively high. Washing or gulch mining, therefore, is 
the only branch of the business which can be success- 
fully carried on, and nearly all the gold exported from 
Montana is obtained by this process. 

But there undoubtedly are in the country numerous 
and fairly rich lodes of gold-bearing quartz, needing 



36 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

only the presence of a railway to become most valu- 
able property. "When the railway is made" is, in 
Montana, a sort of equivalent for our phrase "when 
my ship comes home. ,, The Northern Pacific Rail- 
way was surveyed through the best parts of the terri- 
tory, and under the benign influence of that great 
civilizer Montana would rapidly have developed into 
a prosperous State. But it is a case of "If hads were 
shads there would have been fish for supper." The 
Northern Pacific came to an untimely end. No one 
but Providence and financial agents can possibly say 
whether it is ever likely to be "put through," and in 
the meantime the northern territories are steadily "ad- 
vancing backwards." 

In spite of Montana's failure to rank among the 
principal gold and silver producing districts of the 
world, however, the mineralogist or geologist will 
find plenty to occupy and interest him. Nor need the 
lover of scenery or the Alpine climber be dissatisfied, 
for very beautiful are the mountains, prairies, streams, 
waterfalls, and woods; and, though the summits are 
higher in other portions of the great irregular eleva- 
tion commonly known as the Rocky Mountains, yet 
nowhere, save in the great upheaval of the Sierra 
Nevada, are the outlines finer and more broken. The 
rugged, serrated range containing the three Tetons 
is, so far as I know, as picturesque as any on the 
continent. Although the highest mountains of North 
America are exceedingly easy of ascent, yet there are 
exceptions, for many a mountain is said to be in- 
accessible, and multitudes of peaks have never yet 
been trodden by the foot of man. 

But the great center of attraction to all, whatever 



"WONDERLAND" 37 

their tastes and proclivities may be, is, of course, that 
extraordinary section of country not inaptly termed by 
the inhabitants "Wonderland" — more accurately but 
not so euphoniously designated the Upper and Lower 
Firehole Basin or Geyser Basin, while the whole dis- 
trict is, for want of a better name, usually described 
as the Upper Yellowstone Country. It is of this 
Geyser Basin, the country immediately surrounding 
it, and the various routes leading thereto, that I pro- 
pose to speak. It is accessible to all who have leisure, 
money, and inclination to travel, nor can it be pre- 
tended that a visit is attended by any alarming risk. 
To the territories of Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho 
in general I shall not allude. They are great hunt- 
ing grounds, and there is much to be said about them ; 
but large portions of these territories — and those por- 
tions, for many reasons, the most prolific in game — 
are not very well known to me, and can be visited 
only at considerable risk owing to the restless hostility 
of the Indians. 

The area contained in the reservation measures 
3,578 square miles. It is, speaking roughly, within 
the meridians of 110° and 111° west longitude, and 
44° and 45° north latitude. The general elevation 
is about 6,000 feet above sea-level, while the mountain 
ranges that hem in the narrow valleys on every side 
attain to a height of from 10,000 to 12,000 feet. 
The winters are too severe for stock-raising, and, as 
frosts occur at night during nearly every month of the 
year, agriculture is out of the question. The rocks 
are generally volcanic, and there is but little chance of 
any mineral deposits being concealed in them. It is 
therefore for ordinary purposes a valueless region, 



38 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

capable of supporting only wild beasts and the wilder 
men who prey upon them. But, though useless for 
farming, mining, or manufacturing purposes, many 
circumstances have combined to render the National 
Park the most interesting and valuable district in the 
continent. It may be that the Yosemite Valley sur- 
passes it in picturesque beauty. But the National 
Park does not rely upon its scenery alone. It is en- 
dowed with many and various attractions. It con- 
tains the most wonderful remains of volcanic activity 
at present known to exist. The Mammoth Hot 
Springs of Gardiner's River, and both the Geyser 
Basins, are situated in it. Entombed in its forests, 
at a height above the sea of 7,788 feet, lies a large 
and most lovely lake, which is, with four exceptions, 1 
the highest body of water of any considerable size in 
the world ; and in the snow that falls upon its summits 
are born four of the largest rivers of the continent. 
On the north are the sources of the Yellowstone; on 
the west, those of the three forks of the Missouri; to 
the southwest and south rise the springs of the Snake 
and Greer* Rivers, the former gaining the North 
Pacific, the latter finding its way to the Gulf of Cali- 
fornia; and lastly, on the south, head the numerous 
branches of Wind River. Thus it is, as auctioneers 
would say, a most desirable park-like property; and, 
if Government had not promptly stepped in, it would 
have been pounced upon by speculators, and the 
beauties of Nature, disposed of to the highest bidder, 

1 These four exceptions are lakes Titicaca in Peru, and 
Uros in Bolivia; which respectively are 12,874 and 12,359 
feet above sea-level; and lakes Manasasarowak and Rakas 
Tal in Thibet, both of which lie at the enormous elevation 
of 15,000 feet. 



"WONDERLAND" 39 

would have been retailed at so much a look to genera- 
tions of future travelers. 

There are five routes by which "Wonderland" may 
be reached. First, and most obvious, is the regular 
stage line running from Corinne, a town situated on 
Great Salt Lake, thirty-two miles west of Ogden, to 
Virginia City and Helena. ... A glance at the map 
will show that the most convenient course to pur- 
sue is to go direct from Corinne to Virginia City by 
stage, passing up Malade Valley. There the traveler 
should fit out, secure a guide, purchase or hire pack 
animals, and proceed to the Geyser Basins. . . . 

Secondly. — Purchasing an outfit at Corinne or Salt 
Lake City, send it on to Fort Hall, Snake River 
Bridge, or some other convenient starting-point; take 
the before-mentioned stage line up Malade Valley 
till you join the outfit, and then launch out into the 
wilderness, taking a direction slightly to the east of 
north. . . . 

Thirdly. — If the map be consulted, a military post, 
by name Camp Brown, will be noticed, situated about 
120 miles north of Rawling Springs Station, on the 
Union Pacific Railway, with which place it is con- 
nected by a good stage road. From Camp Brown 
to the Geyser Basin cannot be more than 130 or 140 
miles. The trail is said to be easy, the scenery beauti- 
ful, and game plentiful; wood, water and grass, in 
fact, all the necessaries of life, are found in abund- 
ance. In 1873 Captain Jones surveyed a trail from 
Camp Brown to Fort Ellis, with a view to connecting 
the National Park and the mining districts and towns 
of Northern Wyoming and Montana with the rail- 
way, by a wagon road more direct than the existing 



40 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

one from Corinne. It had always been reported that 
the Yellowstone Lake was unapproachable from the 
south. Impassable mountain ranges, which an old 
trapper described as being so "high and rugged that a 
crow couldn't fly over them," were said to bar the 
way. But these obstacles turned out to be purely 
mythical. The expedition, after a most interesting 
journey, arrived safely at the Yellowstone Lake with- 
out having experienced any great difficulty, having 
met with no serious obstacles to overcome in the way 
of steep gradients. 

The result of this investigation proves that the dis- 
tances from the Union Pacific Railway to the National 
Park have been much over-estimated. It seems clear 
that from Point of Rocks Station a stage line could be 
made to the Yellowstone Lake via Camp Brown, 
which would not exceed 250 miles in length. The 
only drawback to this route is that it is sometimes 
very unsafe on account of Indians. It is actually in 
the Snake country, and the Snakes, or Shoshones, are 
friendly; but, once clear of Camp Brown, there is no 
harbor of refuge to make for, nothing to keep in check 
and overawe the natives. Under these circumstances 
friendly Indians are just as likely to steal your horses 
as anybody else; and I should not at all fancy being 
caught alone by half a dozen young braves eager to 
gain the distinction of having taken a scalp. Never 
trust an Indian, even though the tribe be at peace, 
unless you have very good reason to know that you 
can do so. It may seem surprising, but the women 
are at the bottom of all the mischief. The chiefs, 
steady old fellows, long ago settled and done for, 
have arrived at the same conclusion as SolomQn — • 



"WONDERLAND" 41 

that all things are vanity — and have transferred their 
affections from the fickle sex to the constant pipe, 
adopting as their motto "anything for a quiet life"; 
so that these old dignitaries are most anxious to be at 
peace and receive their annuity goods regularly; and 
they do their best to keep the young men quiet. But 
courage and craftiness are virtues highly prized in 
savage communities. The brightest smiles, the sweet- 
est glances await the youth fortunate enough to have 
struck an enemy. He becomes a man; his words are 
listened to with respect; his friendship is courted; his 
love not often refused. The old women tell the girls 
long stories of what men their forefathers were, and 
descant upon the doughty deeds they performed before 
daring to aspire to the hand of their mistresses. The 
vanity of the "dusky maiden" is aroused; she deter- 
mines to be not too cheaply bought or too easily won; 
and she taunts and goads her lover into committing 
some act that frequently brings a terrible retribution, 
not upon him alone unfortunately, but upon whole 
families and tribes of innocent persons. 

Can we not imagine the scene? The lovers pacing 
the moonlit sward checkered with the drooping shad- 
ows of the pines, the rustle of the trailing robe, the 
twinkle of the little naked feet among the flowers, 
the glance of the tender eyes, the throbbing pulse and 
beating heart, the half-concealed outline of the little 
swelling bosom heaving in responsive agitation, the 
gentle pressure of the hand, the warm soft rounded 
form yielding to the persuasive arm, the whispered 
"Darling, wilt thou be mine? Fly, oh fly with me to 
yonder grove, there on soft carpeting of moss to plight 
ovlx troth and swear eternal constancy." And the 



42 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

prudent reply, "Yes, dearest, I am sure it would be 
very charming, but what would papa say? How 
many scalps a year have you got? How many horses 
can you steal? Have you taken any ponies lately, 
nice piebald ones?" Fancy his conscious blush of 
shame, and her indignant "What! have you killed no- 
body yet? Unhand me, villain! Is it thus you dare 
to address the daughter of the 'Skunk that Creeps in 
the Grass' ?" 

No! I don't think the young brave is to blame. 
What can he do? "Needs must when the devil 
drives" ; and, if the old song of St. Anthony's tempta- 
tion is to be credited, there lurks in the sweet smile 
and shyly inviting glance of woman the most dangerous 
and irresistible imp of the whole satanic crew. 

For these reasons, when he is in pursuit of a particu- 
larly lovely or hard-hearted damsel, I should prefer 
keeping out of the way of the enamored swain. So 
it is not wise to trust too much even to the Snakes. 
But the country is liable also to incursions of the Sioux, 
those scourges of the plains, who are so much dreaded 
by the Snakes that it would never do to trust to the 
latter for escort or protection. They would most 
likely abandon you upon the first sign of danger. 
These remarks apply only to small parties; but ten 
or twelve men might, except under very extraordinary 
circumstances, travel with perfect safety. 

Fourthly. — There is what may be called the Mis- 
souri route. Until late in summer the river is navi- 
gable to Fort Benton, which is distant from Helena 
about 80 or 90 miles by stage road; and by taking 
this road the traveler would have an opportunity of 
visiting, if he so desired, the great Falls of the Mis- 



"WONDERLAND" 43 

souri. From Helena either Bozeman or Virginia 
City may be readily reached by stage. The transit 
from Bismarck, a town situated on the Missouri and 
the present terminus of the Northern Pacific Railway, 
to Benton would occupy ten to fifteen days. Much 
interesting country would be traversed, especially the 
mauvaises terres, or "bad lands" of Dakota; but it 
would be a tedious journey, and devoid of comfort. 
A better plan would be to disembark at Carrol, near 
the mouth of the Mussel Shell, and, having ordered 
horses to be in readiness for you, to take the wagon 
trail from there to the Crow Agency at the great 
bend of the Yellowstone River, and thence to Fort 
Ellis and Bozeman. The total length of the land 
journey would be about 150 miles, through a prairie 
country abounding in antelope and buffalo. The 
river is navigable to Benton only at high water, but 
communication is kept up pretty regularly with Carrol. 
It is only at extreme low water that the steamers fail 
to reach the mouth of the Mussel Shell; and then the 
traffic is carried on in Mackinaw boats. 

A very good plan for a party starting, say early in 
June from England, would be to sail for Quebec, the 
prettiest and pleasantest town in the Dominion, and 
thence to go by steamer to Montreal, up the noble 
river St. Lawrence, and through the lovely scenery of 
the Thousand Islands to Toronto. From there by 
rail to Collingwood, a journey of only four hours, and 
then again by steamer across the great lakes Huron 
and Superior, through the Sault Sainte Marie; skirt- 
ing the wildly picturesque north shore of Lake Su- 
perior, and touching at various places, Bruce Mines, 
Michipicotton, Nipigon — famous for trout — Silver 



44 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Islet, Prince Arthur's Landing, Fort William, Pigeon 
River, &c. &c, to Fond du Lac, now called Duluth. 
The course would then lie over the embryonic Northern 
Pacific Railway to Bismarck, and up the Missouri 
to Carrol. From Collingwood to Duluth would take 
about a week; Bismarck is about 440 miles from Du- 
luth, and the ascent of the river would occupy about 
10 to 15 days. 

The mention of the north shore and of Prince 
Arthur's Landing, which is one of the gateways to the 
"Northwest Territory, ,, leads me to the fifth direction 
from which the National Park may be reached — 
namely, from the British possessions. 

Among all the modes of progression hitherto in- 
vented by restless man, there is not one that can com- 
pare in respect of comfort and luxury with traveling 
in a birch-bark canoe. It is the poetry of progression. 
Along the bottom of the boat are laid blankets and 
bedding; a sort of wicker-work screen is sloped 
against the middle thwart, affording a delicious sup- 
port to the back; and indolently, in your shirt sleeves 
if the day be warm, or well covered with a blanket 
if it is chilly, you sit or lie on this most luxurious of 
couches, and are propelled at a rapid rate over the 
smooth surface of a lake or down the swift current 
of some stream. If you want exercise, you can take 
a paddle yourself. If you prefer to be inactive, you 
can lie still and placidly survey the scenery, rising 
occasionally to have a shot at a wild duck; at inter- 
vals reading, smoking, and sleeping. Sleep indeed 
you will enjoy most luxuriously, for the rapid bound- 
ing motion of the canoe as she leaps forward at 
every impulse of the crew, the sharp quick beat of the 



"WONDERLAND" 45 

paddles on the water, and the roll of their shafts 
against the gunwale, with the continuous hiss and 
ripple of the stream cleft by the curving prow, com- 
bine to make a more soothing soporific than all the 
fabrications of poppy and mandragora that can be 
found in the pharmacopoeia of civilization. 

Dreamily you lie side by side — you and your friend 
— lazily gazing at the pine-covered shores and wooded 
islands of some unknown lake, the open book unheeded 
on your knee; the half-smoked pipe drops into your 
lap ; your head sinks gently back ; and you wander into 
dreamland, to awake presently and find yourself 
sweeping round the curve of some majestic river, 
whose shores are blazing with the rich crimson, brown, 
and gold of the maple and other hard-wood trees in 
their autumn dress. 

Presently the current quickens. The best man 
shifts his place from the stern to the bow, and stands 
ready with his long-handled paddle to twist the frail 
boat out of reach of hidden rocks. The men's faces 
glow with excitement. Quicker and quicker flows the 
stream, breaking into little rapids, foaming round 
rocks, and rising in tumbling waves over the shallows. 
At a word from the bowman the crew redouble their 
efforts, the paddle shafts crash against the gunwale, 
the spray flies beneath the bending blades. The canoe 
shakes and quivers through all its fibers, leaping bodily 
at every stroke. 

Before you is a seething mass of foam, its whiteness 
broken by horrid black rocks, one touch against whose 
jagged sides would rip the canoe into tatters and hurl 
you into eternity. Your ears are full of the roar of 
waters; waves leap up in all directions, as the river, 



46 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

maddened at obstruction, hurls itself through some 
narrow gorge. The bowman stands erect to take one 
look in silence, noting in that critical instant the line 
of deepest water ; then bending to his work, with sharp, 
short words of command to the steersman, he directs the 
boat. The canoe seems to pitch headlong into space. 
Whack! comes a great wave over the bow; crash! 
comes another over the side. The bowman, his figure 
stooped, and his knees planted firmly against the side, 
stands, with paddle poised in both hands, screaming 
to the crew to paddle hard; and the crew cheer and 
shout with excitement in return. You, too, get wild, 
and feel inclined to yell defiance to the roaring hiss- 
ing flood that madly dashes you from side to side. 
After the first plunge you are in a bewildering whirl 
of waters. The shore seems to fly past you. Crash! 
You are right on that rock, and (I don't care who 
you are) you will feel your heart jump into your mouth, 
and you will catch the side with a grip that leaves 
a mark on your fingers afterwards. No! With a 
shriek of command to the steersman, and a plunge of 
his paddle, the bowman wrenches the canoe out of its 
course. Another stroke or two, another plunge for- 
ward, and with a loud exulting yell from the bowman, 
who flourishes his paddle round his head, you pitch 
headlong down the final leap, and with a grunt of 
relief from the straining crew glide rapidly into still 
water. 

Through the calm gloaming, through the lovely 
hours of moonlit night you glide, if the stream is 
favorable and the current safe; the crew of metis, or 
French half-breeds, asleep, wrapped in their white 
capotes, all but the steersman, who nods over his 



"WONDERLAND" 47 

paddle and croons to himself some old Normandy or 
Breton song. Or, landing in the evening, you struggle 
back from the romance of leaf tints and sunset glows 
to the delicious savoriness of a stew, composed of fat 
pork, partridges, potatoes, onions, fish, and lumps of 
dough; and having ballasted yourself with this com- 
pound, and smoked the digestive pipe, sleep on sweet 
pine-tops till you're leveed by the steersman in the 
morning, when you pursue your way, not miserable 
and cross, as you would be at home after such a mess 
of pottage, but bright, happy, and cheerful; capable 
of enjoying to the full the glories of the daybreak, 
watching the watery diamonds from the paddle-blades 
flashing in the sun, and listening to the echoing notes 
of A la claire fontaine, or some other French-Canadian 
song. 

Dear me! What a lot might be written about 
Fort William, the Kamanistiquoia River, and the 
lovely chestnut-tinted falls upon it, of the hospitality 
of Mr. M'lntyre, and of the great old days gone by 
of the North- West Fur Company, when the traders 
were little kings in Montreal; when the old hall at 
Fort William echoed the voices of over a hundred re- 
tainers of the Company at a time ; when fleets of large 
northwest canoes, manned by twelve men each, would 
come up the still reaches from the lakes, and flotillas 
of lighter vessels, laden with costly furs from far- 
distant northern wilds, would sweep down its rapid 
current, their half-savage crews imitating the cry of 
the beast representing the department from which 
they came. 

But I have already rambled out of the way too 
much. All I meant to say was, that canoe traveling 



48 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

is very pleasant; but it is somewhat expensive. If 
therefore a party of friends, not very particular about 
expense, would like a canoe journey, and not object to 
a long ride or drive, I should advise them to take the 
last given directions as far as Prince Arthur's Land- 
ing or Fort William, and go up by canoe to Fort 
Garry, visiting Kakabeka Falls, passing through the 
soft beauties of the Lake of the Woods and Rainy 
Lake and River, stopping a day or two at Fort 
Francis, if many lodges of Chippeways or Saulteaux 
happen to be congregated there, and traversing the 
wild grandeur of the Winnipeg River. From Fort 
Garry they could either ride or drive in about three 
weeks to Fort Benton, following the Assiniboin River, 
and shaping their course gradually south by Quappelle 
Lakes; or else, riding up the valley of the Saskatche- 
wan to Carlton, they could thence strike due south 
to the South Saskatchewan, and onwards by the Cy- 
press Hills to Milk River, and so to Benton. Good 
men, understanding the natives and well acquainted 
with the country, are to be found at Fort Garry; and 
there ought to be no danger from Indians, except per- 
haps a little just in crossing the boundary. But the 
risk would be so slight that it is scarcely worth con- 
sidering. Indians who are hostile in the States are 
friendly in the British possessions; and, though going 
from Benton north might be uncomfortable, I should 
have little apprehension in crossing to Benton from 
the Canada side in the company of a single half-breed 
upon whom I could rely. 

Finally, you may approach the Park from Walla 
Walla on the west ; but, as I personally know nothing 
about that country, I think the less I say about it the 



"WONDERLAND' 5 49 

better. I believe there is a road following the Hell 
Gate and Bitter Root rivers; the Indian tribes are 
friendly, and the traveler would have the advantage 
of journeying through a country little known to 
civilized man, and reported to be full of game. 
Further than this deponent sayeth not. 

Having thus attempted to "locate" the Geyser 
region, and describe the paths leading thereto, I shall 
proceed to take up my parable and follow my trail 
in memory from Salt Lake City to Wonderland and 
back. 



CHAPTER II 

OFF TO THE GEYSERS 

MY first act after making up my mind to under- 
take the trip to Geyserland was to write to my 
old friend, hunting companion and guide, Mr. 
John Omohondro, 1 better known as Texas Jack, and 
endeavor to secure his services for the expedition. 
Jack and I in company had run wapiti and buffalo 
many times upon the plains. He started for me my 
first bison, a solitary savage old bull, down on one of 
the tributaries of the Republican; under his auspices 
I slew my first elk, also, and, though it was not a very 
large one, I thought it the most magnificent animal 
the world had ever produced; together we once made 
the most successful run at elk that I have ever heard 
of, and enjoyed a day's sport such as I shall never 
see again, but to which I hope to allude later on in 
this volume, if space will permit me. Many a long 
day had we hunted together, and been in at the deaths 
of numerous antelopes and white-tail and black-tail 
deer; and many a wagon-load of meat, the produce 
of our chase, have he and I sent into the Fort. I 
cannot tell you exactly what fort it was, O sporting 
reader, because if there be any game left in that 

x This peculiar name, apparently of Indian origin, is 
spelled Omohundro by members of the family in 
Washington and Norfolk. — Ed. 

50 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 51 

locality, which I very much doubt, I want selfishly 
to reserve it for my own especial benefit, for I hope 
to shoot there once again before I die. 

I had had plenty of experience therefore of Jack, 
and knew him to be just the man I wanted ; but since 
those merry days among the sandhills and on the 
plains, he had settled down in life and married; and 
whether he could be induced to leave his wife and 
comfortable home, and to brave the hardships and 
dangers of a hunting or exploring trip to the far 
West, I was very much in doubt. I was therefore 
much pleased one fine day, as I was lying dozing 
during the heat of noon in my tent, pitched close to 
the never-melting snows on Long's Peak, to receive 
a letter from Jack, forwarded from the post-office of 
the rising little town of Longmont, saying that he was 
ready for anything, that he would be delighted to 
come, and was prepared to accompany me anywhere. 
He added that I should find him at Charpiot's Restau- 
rant, Denver, in a couple of days. 

Jack was a great acquisition to our party, which 
consisted, besides myself, of Dr. G. Kingsley; my 
cousin and good friend, Captain C. Wynne; Max- 
well, a gentleman of color, who fulfilled the important 
functions of barber and cook ; Campbell, my henchman 
or servant, a limber-limbed lengthy Highlandman, 
whose legs were about as long as his drawl; and last, 
but not least, in his own estimation at any rate, if 
not in mine, the faithful companion of many wander- 
ings, my much-beloved collie "Tweed." 

Maxwell had been with me before in the sunny 
South, sailing down the broad reaches of the Indian 
river, camped among the oak and palmetto scrub 



52 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

fringing the sands of Merrit's Island, or on some 
hummock under the shade of the pines and palms of 
fragrant Florida; and I knew him to be a good cook, 
and took him with me gladly, but with some mis- 
givings as to whether he could stand the cold. Camp- 
bell was fresh from his native hills. Wynne and I 
were old friends, who knew by experience that "we 
should get on well together. On this occasion, how- 
ever, he caused me a fearful amount of anxiety, for 
which I hope he has repented long ago in sackcloth 
and ashes ; for he was delayed a month in England, 
and after waiting as long as possible, I was forced 
to start without him. On three separate occasions 
we halted a week for him, and it was more by good 
luck than by good management that he succeeded 
eventually in joining us in Montana: but I must ad- 
mit that by his cheerful and genial companionship 
he subsequently atoned fully for all previous misdeeds. 
Dr. Kingsley and I were not strangers, for we had 
traveled together in America before; had hunted in 
company, eaten out of the same battered iron pot, 
and drunk out of the same pannikin. Altogether, our 
party contained within itself the elements necessary 
to ensure, if not a successful, at any rate an enjoy- 
able trip. 

It was late in the month of July when I got Jack's 
letter, and, acting upon it, I on the following day 
bade adieu to the happy hunting-grounds of Estes 
Park and drove down to Denver, the capital of 
Colorado, a distance of 60 miles. While still at 
some distance from the town I became aware of a 
great coruscation, which I took to proceed from a 
comet or some other meteorological eccentricity, but 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 53 

which on approaching nearer resolved itself into 
the diamond shirt-studs and breast-pin shining in the 
snowy bosom of my friend Texas Jack, who had al- 
ready arrived from the classic east winds of Boston 
to share the fortunes of the trip. Pork and beans and 
pickled cucumbers had failed to sour his genial smile; 
aesthetic dissipation had not dulled the luster of his 
eye. Jack at Denver in broadcloth and white linen 
was the same Jack that I had last seen upon the 
North Platte, grimy in an old buckskin suit redolent 
of slaughtered animals and bodily deliquescence. How 
we did "haver" and talk over old times that 
night, occasionally making enquiries as to the tenor 
of the historical telegram sent by the Governor of 
North Carolina to the Governor of South Carolina, 
which I may as well mention is said to have been to 
the effect that it "was a long time between drinks." 
Far into the night we discussed our future plans, and 
finally decided that as General Sheridan, who had 
kindly given me the benefit of his advice in Chicago, 
would by no means recommend the route via Camp 
Brown, which he considered dangerous for a small 
party that year, owing to hostilities having broken 
out with the Sioux, our best plan would be to take 
the ordinary road from Corinne by stage. 

Corinne is, as I have already mentioned in the pre- 
ceding chapter, picturesquely situated on the shores of 
Great Salt Lake about 32 miles west of Ogden, the 
terminus, or rather junction of the Union Pacific and 
Central Pacific Railways. Deseret, or as it is now 
universally called, Salt Lake City, is two or three 
hours distant by train south of Ogden. It was there- 
fore a little out of our way; but as the office of the 



54 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Montana stage line was there, and as it offered by far 
the most convenient market for us to fit out at, we 
made up our minds to betake ourselves first of all to 
Salt Lake City. Our movements after that were to 
be guided a good deal by circumstances. Our gen- 
eral intention was to stage it from Corinne to Virginia 
City in Montana, and from there to get on as best 
we could to Fort Ellis or Bozeman in the same terri- 
tory. There we proposed to purchase horses, mules, 
and whatever was necessary for the expedition. If 
Wynne joined by the time we were ready to take the 
field, we meant to have gone straight on from Fort 
Ellis to the Geyser district, and, having seen the won- 
ders of that country, to have devoted some time to 
hunting in the mountains about the sources of Clark's 
Fork of the Yellowstone. We were obliged, however, 
to modify our plans a little, and do our hunting first, 
in order to give Wynne an opportunity of overtaking 
us. 

Having a great antipathy to stage traveling in pro- 
miscuous company, I determined, throwing prudence 
to the winds, to make myself as comfortable as cir- 
cumstances would allow, regardless of expense; and 
accordingly I sent Jack on ahead to Salt Lake City to 
negotiate terms and charter the entire vehicle for our 
own sole and particular use, while we took our ease 
in our inn at Denver. On receiving a telegram from 
him saying, "all right," we joined him at Deseret, and 
spent a couple of days in that city of saintly sinners, 
making a few necessary purchases, such as saddles, buf- 
falo robes, and bridles. 

Deseret is a very pretty town, beautifully situated 
on a plain almost surrounded by spurs of the Wahsatch 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 55 

Range. It looks clean from a distance, and on in- 
spection it justifies its appearance. Perhaps the houses 
are whiter than the characters of some of its in- 
habitants. Formerly it enjoyed a very evil reputa- 
tion; but, allowing for the discordant elements that 
mingle there, it may be said to be a tolerably respec- 
table, though very peculiar place. It is like a jar 
of mixed human pickles, the population being com- 
posed of a conglomeration of saints, and gentiles, elders 
and sinners, Mormons and Christians, and very much 
"mixed" indeed. But there is no occasion now to 
give any description of Mormonism and the Mor- 
mons. Everybody knows all about that. 

I enjoyed myself very well, and was introduced by 
Jack to many estimable acquaintances, and to many 
curious scenes. But I am not sure that on the whole 
I benefited much, pecuniarily, from his assistance. 
True, I acquired a considerable amount of second- 
hand renown, and, like the moon, shone with bor- 
rowed splendor. Jack was dressed in beaded buck- 
skins and moccasins, fringed leggings and broad felt 
hat. Jack is a tall, straight, and handsome man, and 
in walking through the well-watered streets of Deseret 
in his company I felt the same proud conscious glow 
that pervades the white waistcoat of the male debu- 
tant when for the first time he walks down St. James's 
Street, arm in arm with the best dressed and most 
fashionable man about town. It was obvious to all 
that I was on terms of equality with a great personage, 
and on that account cigars were frequent and drinks 
free. But I don't know that there was any great re- 
duction in buffalo robes and saddles. 

All our preparations being at length completed, we, 



56 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

on a lovely afternoon in the first week in August, took 
the train from Salt Lake City, and, after changing 
cars at Ogden, arrived at Corinne, where we slept 
at a very comfortable little inn. We knew it would 
be our last night in bed for some time, so we made the 
most of the luxury. The following morning, at 6.30 
a.m., we piled ourselves and traps into a lumbering, 
heavy, old-fashioned stage-coach, and, under the guid- 
ance of a whisky bottle and an exceedingly comical 
driver, started for Virginia City. Jehu was a very 
odd man and wore a very odd head-dress, consisting 
of a chimney-pot hat elongated by some strange proc- 
ess into a cone, having the brim turned down and 
ventilated by large gashes cut in the sides. He was 
very garrulous, and, I grieve to add, profane. I 
might now give you, O reader, the "Comical Coach- 
man/' and introduce the story of Mr. Greeley; but, 
as I am not inclined to cause needless suffering, I re- 
frain. The coach was a strange vehicle, mostly com- 
posed of leather. It was decorated with decayed 
leather; the sides were leather curtains; the top was 
leather; it was hung upon leather straps, and thongs 
of the same material dangled from the roof. 

The arrangements along the road are not good. 
The accommodation for travelers at the stations, and 
the food supplied, are, with one or two exceptions, 
infamously bad. The horses are grass-fed all through 
the summer, and the poor brutes are quite unfit for 
the work they are called upon to perform. As they 
are generally out grazing on the prairie or hill-side 
when a coach arrives at a changing place, and have 
to be driven in and caught, a great deal of time is lost 
and delays are frequent. In fact nobody dreams of 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 57 

being in time; and, unless you arrive at the station 
for changing teams six or eight hours or half a day 
late, you will probably find no one at the ranch. The 
boys will have gone out visiting or shooting, not ex- 
pecting to see you so soon. The consequence is that 
meals get very "mixed"; you find yourself having 
dinner at 7 a.m., supping at noon, and breakfasting 
somewhere about sundown, or in the middle of the 
night. As all the repasts are much the same, con- 
sisting of beefsteaks, pork, potatoes, hot biscuit (a hot 
roll is in America termed a biscuit, and what we call 
biscuit is there denominated a cracker) and coffee, 
this dislocation of meals does not so very much signify. 
The interior of the coach was occupied by three 
seats, the spaces between which we filled in with bag- 
gage, and over the comparatively level surface thus 
formed we were shot about like shuttles in a loom for 
four days and nights. The vehicle labored a great 
deal in the heavy roads, producing at first in most 
of us a feeling of sea-sickness, which gradually wore 
off. Friday, our first day out, was not pleasantly 
spent. The sun was intensely powerful. The road, 
many inches deep in alkaline dust, traversed a level 
plain, following the course of Bear River; and there 
was nothing to break the dull monotony of the scene, 
except a few stunted artemisia and sage bushes, and 
very distant views of mountains. Clouds of the salt 
dust, agitated by the sultry breeze, covered our clothes, 
and filled our eyes, ears, noses and mouths; dinner- 
time and tea-time were hailed with delight, and a lit- 
tle private eating and drinking was also indulged in to 
while away the tedious hours. There was no diffi- 
culty about eating, but to take a drink amidst the 



58 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

heavings and kickings of the carriage, without swal- 
lowing bottle and all, required considerable skill. 

At length the long-wished-for shades of evening be- 
gan to fall. The shadows of the mountains crept 
over the plain. The wind died away; the clouds of 
white powder settled down; the delicious crisp cool- 
ness of a summer night at those high altitudes suc- 
ceeded to the enervating suffocating heat of day, and 
refreshed our irritated nerves. Rolling ourselves in 
blankets, we stretched out as well as we could upon 
the baggage and passed a very tolerable night. It 
was bright moonlight, and I lay awake for a long time 
watching the big jack-rabbits scudding over the plain, 
and admiring the jovial grinning countenance of the 
full moon; till, finally, in spite of the jolting, I fell 
into a sound sleep, broken, however, occasionally by 
Tweed — who with almost human malignity would lie 
down on my stomach instead of in the place allotted 
to him — and by the piercing Indian yells which the 
driver emitted to announce his approach to each sta- 
tion for changing horses. 

Towards evening the plain narrowed into a valley, 
and the road became fearfully rough, littered with 
blocks of stone, and pitted with holes full of water. 
The depth of these pools not being properly laid down 
upon any chart, our driver was obliged to get off and 
sound them with his whip-handle, thereby delaying us 
very much. During the night we crossed the moun- 
tains, and a little before sun-rise awoke to find our- 
selves at a small change station close to the summit, 
and near to where the road branches off to Fort Hall. 

Many people prefer sun-sets to sun-rises. I must 
confess that, notwithstanding the superior gorgeous- 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 59 

ness of color of the evening hour, to me there is some- 
thing infinitely sad about the decline of day ; all things, 
vegetable as well as animal, sink so wearily to rest; 
whereas with the morn come hopes renewed and ener- 
gies restored. The grass is green and cool, and the 
flowers, fresh after their bath of dew, look saucily up 
at the sun. The birds sing; all animals, save those 
that prey by night, rejoice; and new life seems to 
thrill through the frame of man. 

On this particular Saturday morning the breaking 
of the day was very beautiful. There had been a 
slight frost. Not a single shred of vapor obscured 
the perfectly cloudless sky, not a breath of wind dis- 
turbed the marvelous transparency of the atmosphere. 
We stood on a very elevated plateau close to a solitary 
shanty. In the background were some half-dozen na- 
tive lodges, from each of which rose in a straight line 
a thin blue thread of smoke. Crouched on the 
ground, his blanket drawn up over his mouth and nose, 
sat one Indian, and the gaunt figure of another was 
discernible stalking towards us in the rapidly decreas- 
ing gloom. The western constellations were still 
brightly shining, but the splendor of the morning star 
was waning before an intenser light. 

The dawn approaches, flinging over all the eastern 
sky a veil of the most delicate primrose, that warms 
into the rich luster of the topaz, hiding the sad eyes 
of the fading stars. The yellow light sweeping across 
the sky is followed by a lovely rosy tint, which, slowly 
creeping over the arch of heaven, dyes the earth and 
firmament with its soft coloring, and throws back 
the mountains and valleys into deepest gloom. 
Stronger and stronger grows the lusty morn. Higher 



60 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

and warmer spreads the now crimson flood; timid 
Nature, with hot conscious blush, drops from her burn- 
ing brow the veil of night, and shrinking, yet eager, 
steps forth in naked loveliness to meet the sun. The 
mountains all flush up; then blaze into sudden life. 
A great ball of fire clears the horizon, and strikes 
broad avenues of white light across the plain. The 
sun is up! and it is day. What is more, the horses 
are hitched; and, with a cry of "all aboard," away 
we roll to undergo another twelve hours' dust and 
heat. 

Not very far from Fort Hall the road crosses Snake 
River at a point where the waters have cut through a 
basaltic outflow, and exposed a remarkably fine section 
to view. The basalt is columnar and regular, full of 
"pot-holes" of various sizes, some being two or three 
feet deep, though only five or six inches in diameter; 
others, broad and shallow, occasionally containing the 
stones that, whirled constantly round by the action 
of water, have worn out the cavities. We passed a 
good deal of volcanic matter, which appears to have 
been originally poured out into water, and covered 
with a deposit of fine volcanic sand and ashes. The 
evidences of water action are numerous. The whole 
great plain and valley of the Snake River is, I pre- 
sume, formed by erosion, the Three Buttes and other 
detached fragments remaining as monuments to show 
the former level of the land. More recent signs, too, 
are abundantly to be seen. Several clearly defined 
old beaches, indicating the various levels at which the 
waters of the lakes have at different periods stood, 
are noticeable on the sides of low spurs and bluffs. 
Large districts look as if the waters had but quite 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 61 

lately retired from them, and even now great tracts 
are submerged after heavy rains. I should say that a 
very low dam across the rivers draining it would 
suffice to flood the whole country, and turn it into 
another Great Salt Lake or inland sea. 

Sunday was by no means a day of rest to us. We 
were all getting stiff and tired with incessant jolt- 
ing, and longed to be at our journey's end. Tweed 
became so disgusted that he yielded to the seductions 
of a most undesirable acquaintance picked up at 
dinner-time, and could not or would not be found 
when the coach started. He came on by the next 
stage, and arrived in Virginia City "sober and sorry 
for it." We were all becoming dilapidated, and Max- 
well especially so, for in addition to the ordinary 
fatigues of the journey he had also undergone the 
perils of starvation and assassination. Having a 
very proper antipathy to sit at the same table as his 
master, and there being but one table prepared, he ate 
nothing at all at first. When I discovered the cause, 
I recommended him sooner than starve to sit down 
with us, which he accordingly did at breakfast on 
Sunday; upon which up jumps an irascible Texan 
who was going to drive us, and, smashing his fist 
down on the table, swears that he is not going to eat 
with any wretched nigger. And, under ordinary 
circumstances, he would have been right. White 
and black should not associate; both are excellent, but 
mutually disagreeable to each other. The perfume 
of the rose is sweet, the savor of the onion delicious; 
but each possesses in respect to the other a most incom- 
patible aroma. 

We passed in the afternoon through a strange wild 



62 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

gap in the mountains, and emerged into another inter- 
minable plain bounded by nothing anywhere, except 
on the west, where rose the savage rocky crest of the 
Big Hole Mountains, a continuation of the Flathead 
range; in the hidden recesses of whose valleys the 
lordly moose still linger in considerable numbers, and 
among whose inaccessible crags the wild mountain 
goat finds a congenial home. On the east the general 
level is broken only by the jagged tooth-like outlines 
of the distant Tetons. 

Nothing is more extraordinary and wearisome than 
the levelness of the road. From Corinne to Virginia 
City you drive along a series of apparently perfectly 
flat plains, connected with each other by short canons 
and valleys. Occasionally the road ascends, but by 
a very easy gradient. There are no precipices, no 
torrents, no avalanches, no glaciers; nothing grand, 
terrible, or dangerous. The idea that you are sur- 
mounting a portion of a great and important water- 
shed, that you are crossing the backbone of the con- 
tinent, and scaling a vast mountain range, appears 
preposterous. A field-day in the Long Valley, Alder- 
shot, towards the end of July, with its concomitants 
of heat, dust, flatness, and general disagreeability (if 
there be such a word), resembles the passage of the 
Alps by Napoleon I. just about as much as does the 
ideal crossing of the great Rocky Mountains resemble 
the tame reality. 

As I do not consider it a wise thing to cook stories 
or varnish facts when one is sure to be found out, I 
must beg the reader to excuse my unfolding any hair- 
breadth escapes, and to suffer me to introduce him 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 63 

or her thus prosaically to Virginia City, where we ar- 
rived on Monday morning, in fair condition, but by 
no means according to sample, if one had been taken 
of us on leaving Deseret. 

Virginia City. Good Lord! What a name for 
the place! We had looked forward to it during the 
journey as to a sort of haven of rest, a lap of luxury; 
a Capua in which to forget our woes and weariness; 
an Elysium where we might be washed, clean-shirted, 
rubbed, shampooed, barbered, curled, cooled, and 
cock-tailed. Not a bit of it! Not a sign of Capua 
about the place. There might have been laps, but 
there was no luxury. A street of straggling shanties, 
a bank, a blacksmith's shop, a few dry goods stores, 
and bar-rooms, constitute the main attractions of the 
"city." A gentleman had informed me that Virginia 
city contained brownstone front houses and paved 
streets, equal, he guessed, to any eastern town. How 
that man did lie in his Wellingtons! The whole 
place was a delusion and a snare. One of the party 
was especially mortified, for he had been provided 
with a letter of introduction to some ladies from 
whose society he anticipated great pleasure; but when 
he came to inquire he found, to his intense disgust, 
that they were in Virginia City, Nevada, "ten thou- 
sand miles away!" However, we soon became rec- 
onciled to our fate. We found the little inn very 
clean and comfortable; we dined on deer, antelope, 
and bear meat, a fact which raised hopes of hunting 
in our bosoms; and the people were exceedingly civil, 
kind, obliging, and anxious to assist strangers in any 
possible way, as, so far as my experience goes of 



64 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

America, and indeed of all countries, they invari- 
ably are as soon as you get off the regular lines of 
travel. 

Virginia City is situated on Alder Gulch. It is 
surrounded by a dreary country, resembling the more 
desolate parts of Cumberland, .and consisting of inter- 
minable waves of steep low hills covered with short, 
withered grass. I went out for a walk on the after- 
noon of our arrival, and was most disagreeably im- 
pressed. I could not get to the top of anything, and 
consequently could obtain no extended view. I kept 
continually climbing to the summit of grassy hills, 
only to find other hills, grassier and higher, surround- 
ing me on all sides. The wind swept howling down 
the combes, and whistled shrilly in the short, wiry 
herbage; large masses of ragged-edged black clouds 
were piled up against a leaden sky; not a sign of man 
or beast was to be seen. It began to snow heavily, 
and I was glad to turn my back to the storm and 
scud for home. 

Alder Gulch produced at one time some of the 
richest placer workings of the continent. It was 
discovered in 1863, and about 30 millions of dollars' 
worth of gold have been won from it. Of late years 
very little has been done, and at present the in- 
dustrious Chinaman alone pursues the business of re- 
washing the old dirt heaps, and making money where 
any one else would starve. In truth, he is a great 
washerwoman, is your Chinaman, equally successful 
with rotten quartz and dirty shirts. Alder Gulch 
is about twelve miles in length and half a mile broad. 
It is closed at the head by a remarkable limestone 
ridge, the highest point of which is known as Old 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 65 

Baldy Mountain, and it leads into the Jefferson Fork 
of the Missouri. Along the sides of the valley may 
be seen many patches of black basalt, and the bottom 
is covered entirely by drift, composed of material 
weather-and-water-worn out of metamorphic rocks, 
the fragments varying in size from large boulders 
to fine sand and gravel. In this drift the float gold 
is found. In Montana the deposits of the precious 
metal generally occur in metamorphic rocks, belong- 
ing probably to the Huronian or Laurentian series. 
These are clearly stratified, not unfrequently inter- 
calated with bands of clay or sand, and underlie the 
whole country, forming beds of great thickness, very 
massive and close-grained in their lower layers, but 
growing softer and looser in texture towards the sur- 
face. The superimposed formations, carboniferous 
limestones, and others, appear to have been almost 
wholly removed by erosion. In this part of Montana, 
indeed, the forces of erosion must have acted with 
great vigor for a long period of time. The general 
character of the country where placer mines exist may 
be said to be a series of deep gulches, frequently dry 
in the height of summer, but carrying foaming tor- 
rents after heavy rains and in snow-melting time, lead- 
ing at right angles into a principal valley, and com- 
bining to form a little river, or, as it would be locally 
called, a creek. This principal stream courses in a 
broad valley through the mountains for perhaps 60, 
80, or 100 miles, and at every two or three miles of 
its progress receives the waters of a little tributary 
torrent, tearing through the strata in deep canons for 
ten or twelve miles, and searching the very vitals of 
the hills. Down these gulches, canons, and valleys are 



66 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

carried the yellow specks torn from their quartz and 
feldspar cradles, hurried downward by the melting 
snow, and battered into powder by falling boulders 
and grinding rocks, till they sink in beds of worthless 
sand and mud, there to lie in peace for ages amid the 
solitudes of primeval forest and eternal snow. 

Some fine day there comes along a dirty, disheveled, 
tobacco-chewing fellow — "fossicker," as they would 
say in Australia, "prospector," as he would be called 
in the States. Impelled by a love of adventure, a 
passion for excitement, a hatred of "the town and its 
narrow ways," and of all and any of the steady wage- 
getting occupations of life, he braves summer's heat 
and winter's cold, thirst and starvation, hostile 
Indians and jealous whites; perhaps paddling a tiny 
birch-bark canoe over unmapped, unheard-of lakes, 
away to the far and misty North, or driving before 
him over the plains and prairies of a more genial 
clime his donkey or Indian pony, laden with the few 
necessaries that supply all the wants of his precarious 
life — a little flour, some tea and sugar tied up in a 
rag, a battered frying-pan and tin cup, a shovel, ax, 
and rusty gun. Through untrodden wastes he 
wanders, self-dependent and alone, thinking of the 
great spree he had the last time he was in "settlements," 
and dreaming of what a good time he will enjoy when 
he gets back rich with the value of some lucky find, 
till chance directs him to the Gulch. After a rapid 
but keen survey, he thinks it is a likely-looking place, 
capsizes the pack off his pony, leans lazily upon his 
shovel, spits, and finally concludes to take a sample of 
the dirt. Listlessly, but with what delicacy of manip- 
ulation he handles the shovel, spilling over its edges 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 67 

the water and lighter mud! See the look of interest 
that wakens up his emotionless face as the residue of 
sediment becomes less and less! Still more tenderly 
he moves the circling pan, stooping anxiously to scan 
the few grains of fine sand. A minute speck of yellow 
glitters in the sun ; with another dexterous turn of the 
wrist, two or three more golden grains are exposed to 
view. He catches his breath; his eyes glisten; his 
heart beats. Hurrah ! He has found the color ! and 
"a d — d good color too." It is all over with your 
primeval forest now; not all the Indians this side of 
Halifax or the other place could keep men out of 
that gulch. In a short time claims are staked, tents 
erected, shanties built, and "Roaring Camp" is in full 
blast with all its rowdyism, its shooting, gambling, 
drinking, and blaspheming, and its undercurrent of 
charity, which never will be credited by those who 
value substance less than shadows, and think more of 
words than deeds. 

Although the float gold undoubtedly had its origin in 
the metamorphic rocks through which the streams 
have cut their way, yet, strange as it may appear, the 
exceptions where paying lodes have been found at the 
head of rich placer mines are extremely rare. No 
discoveries of any value have been made in the rocks 
towards the head of Alder Gulch, from which the 
tons of gold-dust, panned out from the bed of the 
stream, must have come. It would appear as though 
the upper portions of the strata contained all the metal, 
and the inferior layers were either very lean, or entirely 
destitute of ore. The lodes throughout all this sec- 
tion have a general northeast and southwest strike, 
and dip nearly west at an angle of fifty or sixty de- 



68 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

grees. The matrix is feldspar and quartz, exhibiting 
various degrees of hardness in texture, and occurring 
generally in gneiss. The trend of the whole meta- 
morphic series is about northwest and southeast. 

There is nothing to interest us in Virginia City, 
or in the neighborhood. The chances of good sport 
appeared on inquiry to be very doubtful, and so, as 
soon as we had rested ourselves, we decided, after a 
council of war, to go to Fort Ellis, and have a week's 
hunting in that locality, while we were waiting for 
Wynne, who ought to have joined us long ago. 

The road to Fort Ellis and Bozeman passes, in a 
nearly due north direction, down the valley of the 
Madison river, deflecting towards the little village of 
Stirling and the mining (or would-be mining) settle- 
ment of Midasburg. It then crosses the Madison, and, 
surmounting a low watershed to the east, projects 
across the Gallatin or eastern fork of the Missouri. I 
had some inquiries to make at Stirling; and accord- 
ingly, on Wednesday, Jack and I drove over there 
while the rest agreed to follow us the next day. The 
morning was cold and stormy, and the first snow of 
the year lay several inches deep on the slopes and sum- 
mits of the two low divides over which the road 
passes. The country was dreary and mountainous, the 
only sight of interest being the house of the late 
lamented Mr. Slade, the "boss murderer" of the 
West. 

If any one wants to know about him, of the deeds 
that he did, and the men that he murdered, and the 
cunning tricks with which he deluded his victims to 
take them unawares; of the ears and noses he cut off, 
and how he turned the unfortunate Jules into a target 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 69 

and shot him to death by degrees, taking a whole day 
and a great many drinks about it; and what a good 
and faithful stage-agent he was, and what a gentle- 
man-like quiet man when sober and in good-humor; 
and, finally, of how he cried and kicked and screamed, 
and begged and prayed, when they were going to hang 
him in Virginia City; and how devoted his wife was 
^o him, and how she was just in time to be too late 
to see the hanging — are they not written in the books 
of the Chronicles of Bret Harte, or can they not be 
heard from the lips of a gentleman of the Irish per- 
suasion who rode behind me to Stirling, and scared 
me consumedly with his tales of highway robbery and 
the like? Slade was a remarkable man in his life and 
death. Few have equaled him in the cruel courage 
and calm daring he exhibited so frequently during his 
career; but it is very seldom that border desperadoes 
have shown the white feather at the last as he did, 
most of them taking their departure in a similar, 
frame of mind to that of the individual who, being 
told, when the rope was round his neck, that he had 
five minutes law to say his prayers, replied, "Go on 
with the hanging, gentlemen; my prayers would not 
reach a yard high." The coolness exhibited by some 
of these desperadoes is marvelous. A worthy, rejoic- 
ing I think in the name of Big Ed, was hanged in 
company with two others at Laramie during the rail- 
way-making days. The ropes were fastened to a 
beam projecting from the top of a log-built corral or 
inclosure, and the "hangees" had to walk up a ladder, 
stand on the top of the fence, and jump off. When 
Big Ed got half-way up the ladder he turned and 
asked the assembled gentlemen whether they had any 



70 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

objection to his taking off his boots. The gentlemen 
"hangers" replied that they had not the slightest ob- 
jections, upon which Ed, after divesting himself of his 
Wellingtons, mounted to the top of the inclosure, and, 
just when about to plunge into eternity, called out to a 
man in the crowd, "Say! Bill, you just tell Hank 
(these names are imaginary, for I do not remember 
the true ones) that he has lost his bet after all, for I 
have not died in my boots ; you get the twenty dollars, 
and pay it over to my girl Sal." To die in one's 
boots is, in the West, a periphrasis for dying a violent 
death. 

Stirling was to have been "quite a place," a mighty 
city — in fact, the metropolis of Montana. At pres- 
ent it consists of a post-office, a store, and one or two 
houses, and seems destined to revert at no distant date 
to the wild sheep and goats that from the rocky crags 
surrounding it surveyed the labors of the Midas Min- 
ing Company, and others, when, in 1864, they com- 
menced their building operations at Midasburg. The 
company erected a very spacious and solidly-built mill 
of cut stone, the engines, machinery, and crushers for 
which were brought at enormous cost from California. 
The mill contains fifteen stamps, worked by engines 
of eighty-horse power; and it is capable of crushing 
from one and a quarter to a ton and a half of hard 
rock per day per stamp, using five screens; but not a 
single ounce has yet passed under the stampers, and of 
course the building material, plant, and even engines 
are utterly valueless, the expense of removal being 
so prodigiously high. 

The original cost of the building and plant must 
have been considerable, and to that must be added a 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 71 

large item for the transport of the ponderous machinery 
for 1,200 miles through Arizona and Utah, the most 
dangerous and desolate regions in the United States. 
It is a sad thing to see such a waste of energy and 
money. B.etter days may come; but, if Mr. Jackson 
(the manager of the Company, to whom I gladly take 
this opportunity of tendering my best thanks for all 
his kindness) thinks so, he must be a sanguine man. 
At present he has nothing to do but buy and melt 
gold-dust and look after the property of the company. 

At Stirling we found a most extraordinary little 
Irishman. He was very diminutive, could drink six 
or eight quarts of milk at a sitting, called himself Mr. 
Mahogany Bogstick, never touched beer, spirits or 
tobacco, was partial to petticoats, and held that if only 
England would legislate justly for the Sister Isle, all 
the Irishmen in the world could reside comfortably 
and happily at home with plenty to eat and drink, lots 
of land to live upon, and not a hand's turn of work to 
do. I think he invented his extraordinary name on 
the spur of the moment, from a mistaken notion that 
Jack was chaffing him, when in reply to his inquiries 
he informed him that Omohondro was his nom de 
famille. He was a very funny character, and amused 
us greatly during the evening. 

We bought a pony at Stirling, and, having now 
been joined by Dr. Kingsley, on Friday we left this 
fiasco of a city and drove to Fort Ellis, a distance of 
45 miles. Our recent purchase was the occasion of 
some little anxiety to us at starting. He was a native 
pony, of mixed Spanish and American blood. Like 
all half-bred mustangs, he was not destitute of the 
diabolical accomplishment of "buck-jumping," and he 



72 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

exhibited a slight disposition to indulge in the pas- 
time; but, as he evidently was not a thorough pro- 
ficient at it, Jack found no difficulty in subduing his 
early efforts; after which his behavior was most ex- 
emplary. The doctor and I drove in the buggy, and 
Jack on the newly-acquired broncho, galloped gaily 
alongside in great form, full of spirits — I mean animal 
spirits, not whisky — singing, whooping, and yelling. 
It was a lovely morning; the snow had all disappeared, 
and the sun shone out bright and warm. The horses 
were fresh, and we rattled gaily along a good and 
level road, following the direction of a little creek 
and passing many evidences of the short period of 
prosperity that succeeded the discovery of gold in 1864, 
in the shape of old placer workings, dams for heading- 
up water to work crushing-mills, tumbledown houses, 
and deserted shanties. The only inhabitant now left 
was fishing for trout, and catching them too, in an 
abandoned mill-dam. 

The road, after pursuing a northeasterly direction 
for a few miles, crosses the Madison by a toll-bridge, 
and bends to the north along the margin of the stream. 
The Missouri, as I suppose all geography-taught folks 
are aware, heads in three principal streams, the Jeffer- 
son on the west, the Madison in the middle, and the 
Gallatin to the east. The Madison is, at the point 
of crossing, a fine, broad, rushing river, flowing with 
a current discolored by the washings of many placer 
mines, through a rich alluvial plain. In its shallow 
stream, warmed by the tributary waters of the Fire 
Hole River, the usual fluviatile vegetation flourishes 
with more than ordinary luxuriance, and fills the air 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 73 

with a clean, sea-weedy smell. Leaving the river-bed 
and turning again in an easterly direction, we crossed 
the low divide separating the Madison and Gallatin 
Valleys. This divide is a broad ridge, furrowed and 
water-worn into a series of rounded grass-covered 
hills. Although I should not estimate the highest 
point at more than 300 feet above the level of the 
plains, yet the ridge affords a fine view of both valley 
systems. The two basins are very similar in character, 
and of the same geological formation; having been 
lake basins originally, and at no very distant period 
of time. The old beaches can be very distinctly 
traced in the former valley. Turning from it and 
looking east, the Gallatin Valley is spread out before 
you, the course of the river marked by a heavy growth 
of dark-green cottonwood trees; and beyond it, in the 
distance, rise the mountains dividing the waters that 
flow into the Yellowstone from those seeking the 
Missouri. Dimly visible in the hazy north are the 
Crazy Woman Mountains and the peaks about Shields 
River; on the southern horizon the Great Tetons 
hang like a blue cloud; and to the west are the soft 
outlines of the watershed between the Madison and 
Jefferson. Dotted among the cottonwoods may be 
seen the white houses of prosperous settlers, and at 
the northern or lower end of the valley, where the 
divide on which you stand melts into the plain, two 
or three white objects denote the position of Gallatin 
City, which is situated at the junction of the Three 
Forks. The outlines of the neighboring mountains 
are fine, especially some great masses of trap and por- 
phyry protruding through the limestone. Many of 



74 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

the mountains show old crater forms, and the courses 
of the lava streams that have flowed from them can 
in some cases be distinctly traced. 

We reached the clear swift-flowing waters of the 
Gallatin about two in the afternoon, and, picking out 
a nice shady place, went into camp for a couple of 
hours. 

While some of us unhitched and unharnessed the 
horses, picketed them and gave them their corn, others 
proceeded to the river and speedily returned with a 
dozen or so of beautiful trout. A fire was soon 
lighted, and with fresh-broiled trout and some fari- 
naceous food, taken in a concentrated and liquid form 
out of a black bottle, we made a luncheon not to be 
despised, and then lay down in the cool shade to rest 
and wait till the cattle had finished their feed. 

Oh! the comfort of lying flat on your back on the 
grass, gazing up at the blue sky and the flickering 
green leaves of the trees; flat on your back in your 
shirt-sleeves without any collar — by no manner of 
means must you have a collar; it is sure to get tight 
and half choke you when you lie down — to take your 
rest in the shade on a hot day, the breeze playing 
round your head and stealing down your back and 
chest. That is luxury indeed! No apprehension of 
catching cold disturbs your mind, while you are soothed 
by the distant chirruping of grasshoppers in the sun- 
shine, the murmur of bees in the tree-tops, and the 
carillon of the rushing stream. You are not tres- 
passing and nobody can warn you off. There is 
plenty of fish in the river, some whisky left in the 
bottle, lots of bread in the buggy; and you run no 
risk of being disturbed, for there is not another human 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 75 

being within miles. You can go when you like, or 
stay as long as you choose. You can stretch your 
arms and kick out your legs without any danger of 
treading on a sensitive corn, or of poking out some- 
body's eye; and you can throw back your shoulders, 
expand your chest, and inhale a full draught of fresh 
pure air; with a sense of glorious independence only 
to be enjoyed in a large country. I believe a man 
under such circumstances positively is nearly as happy 
as a cow in a clover field. Think of it, ye fashion- 
ables, ye toilers of the season, who pass laborious days 
panting in the dusty jam of a London summer, and 
spend perspiring nights struggling on a staircase, in- 
haling your fellow-creatures, absorbing fat dowagers, 
breathing men and women! Think of it, and give an 
affirmative answer to the lines in Bret Harte, "Is our 
civilization a failure, or is the Caucasian played out?" 

It is sweet to do nothing; but we could not linger 
very long, for our destination, Fort Ellis, was at a 
distance unknown to us; so, hitching up the horses, 
we tucked ourselves into the buggy, crossed the Gal- 
latin River, and pursued our way. 

The valley of this river affords about the finest 
agricultural and pasture land in the territory. It is 
about forty miles in length from south to north, and 
varies in breadth from five to fifteen miles. It is 
watered by the Gallatin, the banks of which are very 
heavily bordered with poplars and bitter cottonwoods, 
and by several little tributaries, some rising on the 
eastern flanks of the Gallatin Range, and others to- 
wards the north, in a series of broken, detached, and un- 
named mountains. Small fruits, vegetables, and all 
cereals (with the exception of Indian corn, which would 



76 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

never be a valuable crop) flourish luxuriantly. The 
great drawback to all this region, however, is the inter- 
val of cold that invariably comes in about the time of 
the autumnal equinox. At the latter end of September 
there is a fortnight of very cold stormy weather, 
which completely destroys unharvested crops and un- 
gathered fruit. This is true of a very large tract of 
country, including Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, and all 
northern Colorado, in which latter section it not un- 
frequently happens that more snow falls during Sep- 
tember than in any other month of the year. This 
cold snap is succeeded by fine bright warm weather, 
answering to the Indian summer of Virginia, which 
lasts usually till Christmas, and not unfrequently till 
the stormy months of February and March. Were 
it not for these so-called equinoctial snows, the warm 
September and October sun which is so much needed 
in these northwestern territories, where the springs 
are very late and the summers short, would ripen to 
perfection apples, pears, peaches, and Indian corn. 
As long as these peculiar climatic effects obtain within 
their borders, these territories cannot compete in the 
production of fruit, vegetables, and maize with other 
countries situated as far, or even farther to the north, 
but which are not subject to such sudden atmospheric 
changes. 

At the upper or south end of the valley stands the 
clean, all-alive, and wide-awake town of Bozeman ; and 
three miles further on, almost in the jaws of Bozeman 
Pass, is Fort Ellis, the most important military post in 
the northwest. The term "Fort" is in this, as in most 
other cases, a mere figure of speech. All trading es- 
tablishments of the Hudson Bay and other fur com- 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 77 

panies, and all military establishments, are designated 
forts, though there may be nothing whatever fortified 
about them. Fort Ellis consists of a large square, 
two sides of which are occupied by the soldiers' quar- 
ters, while the remaining side is devoted to the officers' 
houses. All along the inside of the square runs a 
wooden sidewalk, beside which a few unhappy trees 
are striving to grow ; and the interior space, the center 
of which is adorned with a tall flag-staff, is graveled, 
forming a commodious parade-ground ; while the angles 
are flanked and protected by quaint old-fashioned- 
looking blockhouses, octagonal in shape, loop-holed, 
and begirt with a broad balcony, upon which sentries 
pace everlastingly up and down. Beyond the build- 
ings forming the square are other soldiers' quarters, 
washerwomen's houses, stables, stores, billiard-room, 
blacksmiths' and saddlers' shops, and the like, the 
whole being surrounded by a sort of stockade fence; 
and furthest removed, on a breezy elevation, are the 
hospital buildings, and some large stores and magazines. 
Strategically, the situation of Fort Ellis is well 
chosen, for it commands the valleys of the Yellowstone 
and of the three forks of the Missouri, in which is 
contained all the richest and best land in the territory 
— in fact, all that is really available for cultivation; 
and, in connection with Fort Shaw and Fort Benton, 
it commands the navigation on the Missouri, and the 
three principal passes which break through the moun- 
tains from one river system to the other. These gaps 
are very important as being natural thoroughfares, 
for through Flathead, Bridger, and Bozeman passes, 
the Bannocks and Flatheads make their way to hunt 
buffalo on the Mussel Shell, Upper Missouri, and 



78 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Lower Yellowstone ; and through them also the hostile 
Indians of the plains make their raids into the Gal- 
latin Valley, killing and plundering the settlers, and 
lifting their stock. These predatory expeditions had 
latterly become rare, and it was hoped that they had 
been renounced altogether; but only last year the 
Sioux made a dash, ran some stock off from under 
the very walls of Fort Ellis, and killed two white men 
near the Crow Mission. The Crow Indians are the 
best guards. Their young men are always roaming 
through the country in the hope of picking up some- 
thing; and they smell out a war-party long before it 
occurs to the soldiers that there is a hostile red-skin 
within a hundred miles. "When the Crows are away 
the Sioux will play," but, when the tribes of the 
Absaraka return to their Agency, those thieving 
worthies discover that important business necessitates 
their presence at home. 

It was late in the afternoon when we arrived at 
Fort Ellis. With some difficulty we found our way 
to General Sweitzer's quarters, where, upon pre- 
senting our letters of introduction, we were most 
kindly received. By the time we had completed our 
ablutions, after which we stepped out on the "stoop," 
or veranda, to enjoy the cool breeze, the sun was 
nearly down. It was a most lovely evening. The 
atmosphere was "smoky," as it is termed in the West, 
and imparted a dim grandeur to the distant mountains, 
while the glowing valley lay basking in the sunlight; 
and far to the west the dark masses of the Madison 
Mountains bounded the horizon. Close by, the sum- 
mits of Bridgets Peaks reared themselves distinct and 
clear, catching the full blaze of the setting sun; and 



OFF TO THE GEYSERS 79 

to the north and east the blue cloudy heights of Crazy 
Woman Range swam and trembled in the haze. The 
air was perfectly still; the star-spangled banner hung 
motionless. Two or three cloud-islands, or rather 
reefs of clouds, lay in the clear blue sky, dazzling 
under the slant rays of the sun. The clouds grew 
crimson, their edges flashing like red burnished gold, 
and the horizon was tinted with lovely greens, purples, 
and yellows, splendent but fading imperceptibly into 
each other. Lower and lower sank the sun, while the 
evening star shone bright through a great gap in the 
eastern range. A puff of white smoke, a loud echoing 
report; down floated the Stars and Stripes, and one 
more peaceful and monotonous day had passed over 
the heads of these exiles in a remote frontier post, 
these watchers on the confines of civilization. 



CHAPTER III 

THE CROW TRIBE 

A FEW pleasant days we lingered at Fort Ellis, 
much enjoying the kind hospitality of General 
and Mrs. Sweitzer and the officers of the gar- 
rison; discussing hunting and shooting, trapping bears, 
stalking elk or trailing redskins; listening to awful 
tales, which I trust were a little highly-colored, of 
Indian deviltry and cunning, how they creep upon 
you unawares, how they impale you on a young pine- 
tree, and leave you there to squirm your life out in 
writhing agonies, or lay you, stripped naked, flat on 
your back on the ground, your arms and legs extended, 
and, lighting a small fire on your stomach, dance 
round you in enjoyment of the spectacle. 

Wild stories, too, we heard of weary marches; of 
want of food and want of water; of hazardous scout- 
ing expeditions; and of awful sufferings in winter 
snows, when men lost their toes and fingers, or fared 
like the carpenter in the voyage through the Straits of 
Magellan, who, "thinking to blow his nose, did cast 
it into the fire." Perhaps some fastidious fair one 
may think the carpenter in question must have been a 
vulgar person. Any one who has been to a cold 
climate will, however, allow that if you blow your 
nose at all, you must use the implements of nature, 
not of art. 

So we chatted, spun yarns, played billiards, and 
80 



THE CROW TRIBE 81 

drove about, while Jack, by no means idle, was pur- 
chasing stock at Bozeman; and finally, everything 
being nearly ready, I left orders for the outfit to pro- 
ceed direct to Border's Ranch, and started off myself 
to have a look at the Crow Agency. 

The distance from Fort Ellis to the Agency is about 
thirty miles. The road is easy and not very remark- 
able in any way. The canon or gorge by which it 
breaks through the first range of mountains is rather 
fine, the pass being in some places hemmed in by very 
massive precipitous walls of rock. The road then 
winds along for some distance, a little above the creek 
level, over the usual hilly deposit of detritus that in- 
variably borders the foot of the mountain ranges; and 
at length, when you begin to think the distance must 
have been miscalculated, you gain the summit of a 
rise and get your first view of the Yellowstone River 
and of its plain, fading in the dim unbroken distance 
to the east, and bounded to the southeast by the great 
range of the Yellowstone Mountains. I had heard 
so much of the Yellowstone — of the signs and won- 
ders that attend its birth in the mountains, and of the 
lovely and mysterious lake at its source; of the region, 
fire-haunted and full of portents, which no Indian 
dare visit, and which until a year or two ago was un- 
known to civilized man; of the stupendous cliffs of its 
canon, and of the wild tribes that roam along its 
banks — that when the sheen of its waters glittering in 
the evening sun struck my eye, I pulled up and gazed 
on the scene with something of the silent enthusiasm 
of a pilgrim who sees in the far distance St. Peter's 
dome or the minarets of Mecca, towards which for 
weary days he has dragged his feet. 



82 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

The Mission is well situated on the south side of 
the river near the great bend, where, after bursting 
through the mountains, it suddenly turns its course 
from north to east. As the road runs on the north 
bank of the Yellowstone, we had to cross the river. 

The current is deep, broad, and rapid, flowing over 
a bottom of loose rolling stones; and though the 
waters were low at the time, it was by no means 
easy to ford. With the river bank-full it is impass- 
able. A fine grassy prairie surrounds the Mission, 
extending on both sides of the river for some distance, 
and gradually expanding on the south side into the 
great plains that lie between the Yellowstone and 
Missouri. North of the river are the Crazy Woman 
and Sheep Mountains. Near at hand on the south is 
a high triangular peak, on the top of which the Crows 
occasionally light a great fire; but whether it is done 
at stated seasons, and is connected in any way with 
some religious observance dimly shadowing the former 
prevalence of fire-worship, or whether it is used merely 
as a signal, I could not discover. Further to the 
south is the great snowy Yellowstone Range. The 
buildings of the agency comprise a small barrack, 
which was garrisoned by a non-commissioned officer 
and ten men, traders' stores, church, school-house, 
houses for the various employees, and comfortable 
quarters for the agent and his family and the mission- 
ary. 

I had some interesting conversation that evening 
with the agent and missionary on the subject of 
evangelizing the red men. To most lay travelers the 
word missionary is as a red rag to a bull. I feel 
tempted to say something on the topic; but it is an 



THE CROW TRIBE 83 

exciting one, and, if once I began to write thereon, I 
should unduly swell the proportions of this book. So 
I prefer to abstain from the question of the prose- 
lytization of nations in general, omitting even to ac- 
count for the fact that too frequently, among Indians 
in particular, the words heathen and honest man, thief 
and Christian, are convertible terms. 

The Absaraka, as they call themselves — or Crows, 
as the whites designate them — are a fine race, tall, 
straight, clean-limbed, well proportioned, and light 
in color. Men of six feet two, three, and even four 
inches in height are not uncommon; and they look 
taller than they really are, partly on account of their 
wearing drapery which adds to their apparent stature, 
and partly because, like all other savages, they lack 
the robust proportions and strong muscular develop- 
ment of the white man, and in consequence their 
limbs look long, rounded, and woman-like. The 
beauty of long locks, with us a crown of glory to the 
fair sex, is, in the lodges of the Crows, appropriated 
entirely by the men ; who take infinite pains with their 
hair, usually wearing it in long heavy plaits. 

I don't know how it is with the women, but prob- 
ably they have not time or opportunity to cultivate it 
or keep it in order, for among Indians it is the men 
who spend hours in beautifying themselves and look- 
ing in the glass, who run up long bills for finery, and 
make use of powder and paint. They reserve to 
themselves all the tricks and artificial aids of the toilet. 
For their glossy locks the greasy bear is shorn of his 
fat; for them are the reddest cloth, the brightest 
beads, the bravest plumes, the rarest shells. The 
young men monopolize the trinkets, necklaces, and 



84 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

earrings, dress themselves in shirts adorned with porcu- 
pine-quill embroidery, and throw over their shoulders 
blankets of vivid red or green. 

The women, poor drudges, have no time for these 
vanities. The wife has to unpack the horses, set up 
the lodge poles, stretch the skin-covering over them, 
cut the wood, light the fire, draw the water, spank 
the baby, cook the supper, and light the pipe for her 
lazy lord, who sits at ease, master of the situation, 
indolently beautifying his ugly person, smearing a 
stripe of yellow ochre across his Roman nose, paint- 
ing his broad face in alternate stripes of black and 
red, or coloring his dusky skin a lively pea-green. A 
girl has a poor chance of retaining any little article 
of finery that may be given to her. Unless she is 
comely, well-formed, a recent acquisition, or a very 
great favorite, it soon finds its way into the wardrobe 
of her husband. 

They are great dandies these young bucks, and 
take immense pains about their get-up, carrying with 
them, on friendly expeditions, their paint and finery, 
and always halting to dress before entering a strange 
village. They are exceedingly careful of their war- 
bonnets and feather head-dresses, folding them in neat 
little band-boxes of birch-bark or hide, and very proud 
of their ornaments, earrings, bracelets, and garniture. 

Nothing tickles the fancy of an Indian so much 
as to be stared at by a white man. His vanity is 
gratified ; he sees that he has made an impression, and 
it never enters into his head that the impression could 
be anything but favorable. 

The sole end and object of his existence, the point 
on which all his thoughts and energies are concentrated, 



THE CROW TRIBE 85 

is to appear formidable to his enemies and attractive to 
the women. If he can scare his foes by the hideous- 
ness of his war-paint and the ferocity of his appear- 
ance, he is delighted, because he may, perhaps, without 
risk to himself, shoot one of them in the back while 
running away; and having done so, he and his friends 
would scalp the body, and kick it, and dance round it, 
and stamp upon it, and abuse it, and stick it full of 
knives and arrows, and have a "gay old time gener- 
ally/' and then go home and be afraid of the dead 
man's ghost. At any rate, he would argue that, even 
if he killed no one, he would not be killed himself, 
which would be a highly satisfactory reflection to his 
selfish mind. And if he sees that the bright ver- 
milion partings of his hair, and the carefully-designed 
and artfully-painted stripes and patches on his face and 
chest, are making an impression; if shy glances of ap- 
proval note the swing of his gay blanket and the 
style of his leggings, and if soft eyes brighten at the 
sight of his shell earrings and the silver plates in his 
black hair, he is also delighted, because — well, for the 
same reason anybody else would be. 

In short, he is the greatest coxcomb on the face of 
the earth, not to be surpassed even in London for in- 
ordinate vanity, stupendous egotism, and love of self. 
His features may not be strictly classical, according 
to our standard of beauty. His cheek-bones might 
be considered somewhat too prominent, and his paint 
certainly is inadmissible with us : but, to do him justice, 
I must allow that he is not a bad-looking fellow in his 
way. Take, as an example, a young warrior of the 
Bannocks whom I saw riding through a street in Vir- 
ginia City from their camp in the neighborhood. 



86 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Smooth and easy as a hawk's flight he sweeps along, 
sitting his foam-flecked mustang with the yielding 
gracefulness of a willow bending to the breeze; sway- 
ing his lithe body with every bound of the animal be- 
neath him. Before him, across the pommel of his 
saddle, he bears his rifle in embroidered elk-skin cover 
adorned with long fringes, which, mingling with the 
horse's mane and the tags and tassels of his gay 
leggings, spread out behind him on either side. His 
long black hair, plaited and tied with knots of scarlet 
ribbon, streams out in the wind, and uniting with the 
horse's tail seems almost to touch the dust. Slung 
across his back are his lion-skin quiver and his bow; 
by his side hangs a revolver, silver-mounted, and shin- 
ing in the sun. With the toes of his beaded moccasins 
he touches the loops that serve him for stirrups; his 
left hand lightly holds the bridle; and from his right 
wrist hangs by a thong his buckhorn-handled quirt or 
whip. 

As he gallops down the street, all his gay trappings 
fly out in disorder behind him ; and, when with a 
pull at the cruel Spanish bit he steadies into a walk, 
the folds of his scarlet blanket settle down and hang 
gracefully from his shoulders, and he passes, an em- 
bodiment of savage life, full of wild beauty and 
bright color, and no doubt attractive to the female 
eye; glancing with supreme and undisguised contempt 
upon the plug-hat, black store coat and pants of some 
newly-arrived representative of civilization. 

It is only the young men who indulge their love of 
dress and finery. The tried and seasoned warriors 
wear with pride their feather head-dresses, every plume 
in which commemorates some notable incident in their 



THE CROW TRIBE 87 

lives ; but they care little for beautifying their weather- 
beaten countenances. Indeed, it is considered de 
rigueur that a great chief should assume a studied 
simplicity of garb and demeanor, be his age what it 
may. Though his government, such as it is, is a 
species of despotism, yet the red Indian is a thorough 
republican at heart, and a great stickler for the equal 
rights of all. He is the most independent man in the 
world, each head of a family being in his own lodge 
supreme. » 

The chiefs hold their position by an exceedingly 
precarious tenure, inasmuch as their popularity, and 
consequently the numerical strength of their following, 
fluctuates as good or evil results attend their under- 
takings. Before starting on a war expedition or 
buffalo hunt, the chief "makes medicine"; that is, he 
wraps himself in his blanket, and sits down without 
eating, speaking, or smoking for forty-eight hours or 
so. If no evil omens occur, if he is impressed with 
a feeling that the hour is propitious, the party will set 
out, full of confidence and ready to obey him in every 
respect. But if bad luck pursues them, if the enemy 
discovers their proximity before a blow has been struck, 
or if they fail to find game, or cannot approach the 
herds owing to a bad wind prevailing for two or 
three days, the chief in charge of the party never fails 
to abdicate voluntarily, and some one else is chosen 
to see if he can make better medicine. 

War chiefs are selected for their skill, courage, and 
cunning, and they are most anxious to show that their 
whole energies are devoted to the advantage of the 
public, and not used for the benefit of themselves or 
their families. The great man therefore is generally 



88 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

no better housed or clothed than the average of his 
tribe. He is among the first to feel the pangs of 
hunger, and it would be considered exceedingly wrong 
in him to take advantage of his position and to pro- 
vide himself against the numerous vicissitudes of 
savage life. 

But, to return to the Crows: This tribe is divided 
into two bands — the Mountain Crows, numbering 
about 3,200 souls, including half-breeds ; and the River 
Crows, about 1,200. Each division is in their own 
language called by a distinctive name, which indicates 
significantly certain customs which the sub-tribes have 
adopted as suitable to the nature of the country in 
which they dwell; but which, being translated, would 
be very shocking to ears polite. 

Their present reservation, secured to them by treaty 
with the United States in 1868, comprises about 
6,272,000 acres of land, situated north of the Yellow- 
stone. It contains every variety of land, mountain, 
plain, valley, forest and meadow; is well watered by 
several important confluents of the Yellowstone, and 
is in parts heavily timbered. In other words, it is 
well adapted to the purpose for which it was set aside, 
namely, the support of a wandering race of people 
living by the chase. But gold was found or heard of 
on Rosebud or Big Boulder; white men flocked in, 
the land was wanted, and the Crows were "requested" 
to exchange their reserve for one of 3,625,000 acres, 
about half the size of their original territory in the 
Judith Basin, south of the Missouri; a land certainly 
not flowing with milk and honey, nor even with milk 
and water, or water alone — a country small in size 
and sparsely timbered. It is true that it is a fine game 



THE CROW TRIBE 89 

country, and it abounds or abounded in buffalo; but 
it is a hunting-ground over which many tribes had a 
right of commonage. One of the inducements held 
out to the Crows was that they would thenceforth 
have it all to themselves; — truly a heavy undertaking 
to keep out all the Sioux, Bannocks, Nez Perces, 
Flatheads, Blackfeet, Assiniboins, &c. &c., who have 
from the beginning of time been running buffalo on 
these plains. The whole lives of the new-comers will 
be spent in Chancery, defending their newly-acquired 
privileges against the right of immemorial usage 
claimed by the others. However, when Uncle Sam 
"requests" a small tribe to exchange their reservation, 
it is much the same as when Policeman X 220 "re- 
quests" an obstructionist to move on. After a little 
remonstrance the tribe, like the individual, sees the 
force of the argument and accedes to the request. So 
the Crows, after much speechifying and remonstrating 
at a convention held at their Agency in 1873, ex- 
pressed their willingness to go, entreating (poor 
fellows!) that Major Pease, who had for some time 
been their agent, and for whom they evidently enter- 
tained great respect and affection, should continue to 
act in that capacity, and asking for assistance against 
their enemies, the Sioux, whom they declared to be 
better armed and supplied than they were, despite the 
fact that the Sioux are hostile to the whites. Indeed, 
they seemed to fancy that the Dakota had been 
favored on account of their hostility. It is a danger- 
ous thing to allow Indians to suppose that by making 
themselves troublesome they can obtain privileges they 
would not otherwise enjoy. 

The territory claimed by the Crows at the time of 



90 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

their meeting with the Commissioner in 1873 had been 
conveyed to them in the usual terms by the United 
States in 1868, and the Government had, moreover, 
undertaken certain obligations, such as yearly payments 
of money and supplies of goods. In 1869 their agent 
wrote to Washington complaining bitterly that the 
treaty obligations were not carried out by Government, 
and that, in consequence, he had much difficulty in 
restraining his Indians from making common cause 
with the neighboring hostile tribes. In 1873 the 
United States proposed to take up their land and place 
them on the new reservation, and offered to make a 
new treaty decreeing that **the following district of 
country, to wit, .... shall be, and the same is, set 
apart for the absolute and undisturbed use and occu- 
pation of the Indians herein named." The text of the 
treaty went on to say that "the United States now 
solemnly agree that no person except those herein 
designated .... shall ever be permitted to pass over, 
settle upon, or reside in the territory described in this 

article And the United States agree to set 

apart the sum of one million of dollars, to hold the 
same in trust for the Crow tribe of Indians, the 
principal to be held in perpetuity and the interest 
thereof to be expended or invested." 

All this doubtless was very satisfactory; but, con- 
sidering that only five years had elapsed since the 
former treaty at Laramie, it is not likely that the 
Crows would again attach much importance to the 
proviso that no person should ever disturb them in 
their new possession, which was nominally to be for 
their absolute use. Neither would they be inclined 



THE CROW TRIBE 91 

after their last experience to attach a very high value 
to the interest on their one million dollars. 

The Crow tribe will not, in all probability, cumber 
the earth for many generations; and the one million 
dollars, held for their use in perpetuity, are likely to 
revert to Uncle Sam before very long; but in the 
meantime, the adhesiveness of the material used in 
paying Indian annuities being proverbial, it would be 
interesting to know how much of the interest will 
fall into the Crows' hands and how much will stick 
on the way. 

In fact, the value of the whole new treaty does 
not amount to that of a row of pins, for the fulfill- 
ment of it depends entirely upon whether anything of 
value is discovered on the new reserve, in which case 
the Absaraka will be again "requested" to take up their 
beds and walk. No one can appreciate this more fully 
than the Indians themselves, who have learned by hard 
experience the true value of such treaty obligations. 
No people can feel more keenly the pain of parting 
from their old hunting-grounds, from the burial- 
places of their fathers and the birthplace of their 
sons. But what can they do but make the best case 
they can for themselves and bow to fate? . . . 

There were a good many Crows at the Agency 
when I arrived, and I was formally introduced to 
several of the leading men. . . . They are invariably 
named from some peculiarity of appearance, or some 
striking incident in their lives; and the names in some 
instances are very expressive, such as — 

Thin Belly — Ella-causs-se. 

Shot in the Jaw — Esa-woor. 



92 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Boy that Grabs — Seeateots. 

Rides behind a Man on Horseback — Ma-me-ri-ke- 
ish. 

Charge through the Camp — Ash-e-ri-i-was-sash. 

How other names were obtained it is not so easy to 
see, such for instance as — 

Old Onion — Mit-hu-a. 

Calf in the Mouth — Nak-pak-a-e; 
which are rather puzzling. A few might be appro- 
priately applied to our own friends, such as — 

The One who Hunts his Debt — Ash-e-te-si-oish. 

During the evening a number of them came up 
from the camp and gave us a coup dance. Among 
those present at the dance were Blackfoot, Little 
Soldier, The Spaniard, Boy that Grabs, Two Bellies, 
Pretty Bird, and several other notabilities whose names 
have escaped my memory. Blackfoot and an old 
medicine-man were masters of the ceremonies and con- 
ducted the arrangements, but took no active part 
themselves. 

A coup dance, as it called by the whites, is not a 
dance at all. The Indians call it counting their coups, 
and it is a sort of history lesson in which the young 
braves and warriors narrate their deeds in war, an 
interlude of stamping and singing taking place be- 
tween each speech. As each adventure is detailed, 
those among the crowd of listeners who can bear wit- 
ness to the truth of the speaker's statement strike the 
ground with their whip handles in token of approval ; 
and it is customary for the speaker at the close of each 
description to produce the trophies which he won on 
that particular occasion — a gun, a club, a pistol, and 
perhaps a scalp. Thus the records of the tribe are 



THE CROW TRIBE 93 

kept green and fresh in the people's memories. Old 
feuds are fanned and kept alive, and the young men 
are urged to emulate the brave deeds of their fathers 
by learning those deeds proclaimed and applauded. 

At one end of a large room sat the agent, Dr. 
Wright, one or two white squaw-men, 1 the interpreter, 
and all the rest of us; before us lay spread in tempt- 
ing show a large sack of sugar, a great pile of ginger- 
bread-nuts, a box of black tobacco, and a lot of cart- 
ridges; and along the other three sides were ranged 
the Indians. The sublime and the ridiculous, the 
comic and the tragic element, are so absurdly blended 
in these people that at one moment you are convulsed 
with laughter at their ludicrous appearance, and at 
the next are astonished at the dignity of their gestures, 
the ease of their carriage, and the grand simplicity of 
their movements. It is but fair to say that the ludi- 
crous element is due to the adoption of articles of 
civilized dress which do not accord well with their 
native attire. There were twenty or thirty Indians 
present. With the exception of Blackfoot, who wore 
only a shirt of gray flannel and a blanket, they were 
dressed in all their finery; and their costumes were 
varied and peculiar, the only garments common to 
all being the waist-cloth and moccasins. Some used 
leggings of antelope or deer skin, fringed with human 
hair; others preferred them made of scarlet or blue 
cloth; while many dispensed with them altogether. 
Flannel and cotton shirts were rather fashionable, 

1 "Squaw-man" is a term commonly used to describe a 
white man married to, and living with, an Indian woman. 
He draws annuity goods, and is to all intents and pur- 
poses a Red Man. 



94 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

but the great swells sported shirts, or rather tunics, 
of buckskin embroidered, fringed, and adorned with 
skins of the ermine weasel. Every man carried a 
blanket — scarlet, green, or striped; some had fabri- 
cated them into a rude resemblance to a Mackinaw 
coat or Hudson's Bay Company capote: but in most 
cases they were just thrown over the shoulders or 
belted round the waist. The correct thing — the 
latest novelty out — was a short braided cavalry jacket, 
or very skimpy diminutive tail-coat, such as one may 
see in old pictures of postilions. 

The varieties of head-dress were very numerous. 
The most approved style was a tall puritanical-looking 
hard felt hat, encircled by several bands of tri-colored 
ribbon tied in bows, the loose ends being suffered to 
hang down on either side. A few of the braves wore 
ordinary felt hats. Some had beautiful feather-work 
head-gear, while others were content to pride them- 
selves upon the natural luxuriance of their heavy 
plaits. Of course those who were appareled in their 
native costume looked well, in our eyes at least, while 
there was something exceedingly mirth-provoking in 
the aspect of the warriors who sported the short-tailed 
coats and tall hats. They presented somewhat the 
appearance of French revolutionists, and looked as if 
they had bought up the properties of some strolling 
company. All the Indians had left their weapons 
outside with their ponies, but each man carried, sus- 
pended to his wrist, his whip, which consisted of a 
very thick wooden or elk-horn handle about 18 inches 
long, with two or three elk-hide thongs as a lash. The 
whip is in reality a formidable club. 

The Indian is by no means the taciturn melancholy 



THE CROW TRIBE 95 

individual he has been described to be. On the con- 
trary, when he has enough to eat and is warm he is 
loquacious enough, and is a very jovial, joke-loving 
fellow. When we entered the room we found the 
chiefs and braves all seated round, leaning against the 
walls, smoking, laughing, talking, and carrying on 
great chaff with the interpreter, who was bantering 
them upon their love affairs, and displayed an intimate 
acquaintance with the domestic vicissitudes of some of 
the party, which was much relished by the others. 
The doorway was blocked by a mass of boys and 
youths who had come to hold the ponies and attend 
upon their elders and betters. 

The ceremonies on this occasion were opened by 
Dr. Wright, who put me forward, blushing in a dirty 
flannel shirt, to be glared at by the assembled braves, , 
while he made a speech introducing me. Every 
sentence had of course to be interpreted, and it took 
therefore some time to explain, in flowery and poetic 
language, how I had traveled so many moons to see 
the Crows; how I had crossed great oceans in big 
canoes; traversed prairies, swum rivers, crossed moun- 
tains, and all to have the honor of seeing the Crows. 
In fact, according to the eloquent doctor, the supreme 
moment of my life had arrived ; the aim of my existence 
was gained: — I had seen the Crows! All this time 
I stood in the middle of the room, feeling very un- 
comfortable, trying to look dignified in shirt and 
trousers, — which is an impossible feat, — and not know- 
ing what the mischief to do with my hands; for, the 
room being very hot, I had taken off my coat and 
waistcoat, and my deer-skin continuations were not 
endowed with pockets. 



96 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

When he had made an end of speaking, I lifted up 
my voice, and, in shaky accents, told them that I was 
unaccustomed to public speaking, that I had come a 
long way to see them, that I was very glad to see 
them, and that I considered them to be, to quote 
from a well-known story, "Crows, very fine Crows, 
d — d fine Crows, the finest Crows I ever saw in my 
life." I then deposited myself on an empty candle- 
box, but had to get up again to shake hands with 
every individual in the room, each man approaching 
me singly, taking my hand with a grip that sometimes 
was unpleasantly warm, shaking it in a most affec- 
tionate manner, the while gazing solemnly into my 
eyes, and gutturally emitting "How!" — to which salu- 
tation I with much dignity responded "How!" 

After this Blackfoot got up and made an oration, 
dilating upon the extreme poverty of himself and his 
nation, expatiating upon the great virtues of wool, 
especially in the form of blankets, in counteracting 
the bad effects of cold 1 , and extolling the hygienic 
properties of flannel shirts. It was a fine speech to 
have delivered before a Dorcas Society. I thought 
the allusions and hints were somewhat pointed, but 
gave them to understand that a few blankets might 
be forthcoming if they gave us some good dancing, an 
intimation that was received with a grunt of applause. 

I cannot describe an Indian dance. The only way 
to convey an idea of it would be for me to put on a 
blanket and "jump around loose," and for some one 
else to take shorthand notes of my appearance and 
antics. I tried it the other day in my English home: 
but the shorthand writer had a fit; my elder children 
howled in terror; the baby went into convulsions, and 



THE CROW TRIBE 97 

had oil poured on its head ; the wife of my bosom fled 
shrieking from the room, and my dearest male rela- 
tive threatened to apply for a writ de lunatico; so 
I abandoned the attempt. 

When a chief wishes to organize a war-party, he 
goes out himself to recruit, and, having no military 
band to help him, is obliged to make great play with 
his own lungs. He paints and feathers himself, dances 
his war-dance, and sings the song of battle. Thus 
does he fire the inflammable hearts of the young men, 
who also feather and paint, mingle their yells with 
his, and join him in striking the war-post. It is the 
same all over the world. I wonder how many 
"civilized" deaths are due to the screams of the mad- 
dening bag-pipe, the shrill notes of the fife, the excit- 
ing roll of the drum, or the pulse-quickening war- 
strains of a brass band! 

At their religious ceremonies they sing and dance, 
even as David did before the Ark. 

If death is imminent, and if he wish to die, the 
Indian will fold his blanket around him, lie down, 
and sing himself clean out of the flesh ; for in common, 
as I believe, with all natural peoples he can help to 
loosen the fetters that bind his spirit, and assist him- 
self to die. 

His medicine-song is very sacred, and is most reli- 
giously reserved for his own and his guardian spirit's 
ears alone. 

Indian singing, too, is very peculiar. They have 
their religious songs, their war-songs, their death-songs, 
their mysterious medicine-songs. About the time that 
a youth enters upon manhood, and before he embarks 
upon any serious undertaking, he goes away by himself 



98 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

and fasts for many days. In his dreams he then sees 
mapped out his course through life, and learns whether 
he is to strive to be a warrior, a peace-chief, or a 
medicine-man. Whatever animal — beast, bird, or 
fish — then appears to him, he takes as representing his 
guardian spirit. However pressed by hunger, he will 
not kill or injure that creature, and to it he addresses 
himself in his medicine-song, which, though to our 
ears a string of utter nonsense, is to him a serious and 
sacred composition. These are all songs with words, 
but, like Mendelssohn, they are very great at songs 
without words. All their ceremonies are accompanied 
by a rhythmical chant, to the tune of which the feet 
and hands keep accurate time. 

The music consists of guttural exclamations, or 
rather of a violent jerking out of all the breath in the 
body. They expel the sounds spasmodically from the 
caverns of their broad chests, with their mouths open, 
or hiss them out savagely through the closed teeth. 
They sit in a circle, their bodies bending, their heads 
nodding, feet going, all in most perfect time, gradually 
growing more and more excited, till every muscle 
and nerve jerks and twitches in unison with the stamp 
of the feet and the taps of the drum. There is such 
a rhythm and "go," such an amount of nervous energy 
and physical force is exhibited, that the excitement is 
contagious, and it is hard to restrain one's-self from 
joining in. I should like to go into the subject of 
the origin of Indian dances, whether religious or other- 
wise, but it is too large a question to embark upon 
now. Personally, I delight in witnessing them. But 
to return to our coup dance. 

After a short silence an old medicine-man led off, 



THE CROW TRIBE 99 

chanting to a drum accompaniment a monotonous song. 
He was speedily joined by the rest, and away they all 
went at score, squatted on their haunches on the floor, 
hands, feet, and head all keeping time to the music, 
which consisted of sharp, energetic ejaculations — "Hey 
ah! hi hi ah! hiyah hi hiyah!" &c. &c, expelled 
convulsively from the chest. They kept this going till 
they had worked themselves up to the proper pitch of 
excitement, and then from the far end of the room a 
tall young man arose, and, gathering up the folds of 
his blanket, stood in the center of the floor. He wore 
the universal waist-cloth; scarlet cloth leggings and 
beaded moccasins covered his legs and feet; and a 
sleeveless deer-skin shirt or tunic, fringed with ermine 
skins, half concealed his brawny chest. He wore no 
head-gear to adorn the long luxuriance of his coarse 
black hair. His arms were bare and circled with 
bracelets. 

For a minute he stood, his left foot slightly advanced, 
a perfect picture of natural dignity and ease, looking 
proudly around him; then sweeping back his robe and 
making a circling gesture as though to signify that he 
addressed himself to the whole assembly, he advanced 
a step or two, stretched out his right arm with a 
grand gesture, and commenced to speak. I could not 
of course understand a word that he said, but you can 
gather a great deal of an Indian's meaning without 
knowing one syllable of his language, so appropriate 
and well chosen are his gestures and actions. In fact, 
two good sign-talkers can converse fluently together 
without the utterance of a word. It is a curious 
fact, and worthy the notice of ethnologists, that 
whereas some of the plain tribes talk by signs very 



100 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

well, others, to whom this method of imparting in- 
formation and obtaining knowledge is equally impor- 
tant, have never been capable of acquiring the art. 

Well, this young brave postured so cleverly, and 
signified so plainly by his signs what he was doing, 
how long he was out, when he met his enemy, &c. &c. ; 
so faithfully delineated all the circumstances of the 
fight and the result of it, that I could pretty well 
make out his meaning without the aid of the inter- 
preter, who rendered into English his actual words. 

His speech, being very liberally translated, was some- 
what in this style: — "Oh ka he!" he said, "oh ka he; 
listen to me. It was last spring, soon after the snows 
had melted from the hills, about the time when those 
infernal east winds do blow, raising clouds of dust in 
the King's Road, Chelsea, that I and five others 
(Charley Smashington led the party) who had come 
up to town to see the Oxford and Cambridge boat 
race, drove up to Cremorne in two hansoms. We 
were in our war-paint, white ties encircled our necks, 
our feet were shod in patent leather; our hearts were 
good, our backs strong, our bellies full of inferior 
dinner and bad wine. We were all partially disguised 
in liquor, and our hearts and faces were Light Blue. 
Elated with our late triumph, we danced the valse- 
dance far into the night, and loudly proclaimed the 
great deeds of our tribe and jeered at the insignificant 
Dark Blue. I was standing on a chair waving a 
champagne bottle round my head, when without a 
moment's warning the war-cry of the Dark Blues rang 
through the air. I received the contents of a tumbler 
of B. and S. full in the face, and, stunned and drip- 



THE CROW TRIBE 101 

ping with drink, was pulled out of the conflict by my 
friends and my heels. 

"What a row there was! — bottles flying, glasses 
smashing, tables falling, fists smacking, yells, howls, 
screams, oaths and every other kind of missile hurled 
through the air. I espied a timid youth in spectacles 
crawling terror-stricken beneath a table. Yelling 
Til have those gig-lamps,' I sprang upon him; with 
one blow I knocked his hat off; another, and the 
crimson flood flowed out upon his vest; I dashed the 
glasses from his face, I ground him in the dust, I tore 
the reeking necktie from his dishonored head, and 
with a howl of triumph fled from the scene, followed 
by my friends. They are here, and know that my 
tongue is not forked, and that I speak straight, and 
here is the tie." After waiting for the witnesses of 
his deeds to corroborate his statement he proceeded to 
other topics. 

And so every brave in turn graphically narrated to 
us his deeds; described his fights with Blackfeet or 
Assiniboins, ^upon the Sun, the Marias, or the Milk 
rivers; and told of his encounters with the Sioux in the 
Judith Basin, or on the Missouri, producing as trophies 
of his valor the scalps torn from the heads of enemies, 
and laying down as evidence of his truthfulness the 
guns and pistols captured from them. And after each 
speech we had a chorus of "He hi hiyah hiyah! Hi 
hiyah hiyah !" 

After this we all smoked, and Blackfoot delivered 
another oration, still harping upon the same string, and 
explaining the marvelous properties of woolen blankets 
and flannel shirts; and, being a practical man, he also 



102 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

took occasion to speak to the agent about some cattle- 
straying and horse-stealing grievances. 

Then, when the performers were rested, they in- 
dulged in some more violent exercise in the shape of 
bull-dancesf and bear-dances, dances mimicking the 
chase and war. About a dozen of the braves got to- 
gether in a corner and formed a small circle, sitting 
close together and facing inwards, and commenced to 
sing. On this occasion the tune was faster and more 
lively, and the inflection of their voices much greater. 
They ran up and down the scale, from shrill falsetto 
to the lowest rumbling of a basso profundo with a 
cold in his head. They broke out occasionally into 
most awful war-whoops, yells, and whistlings. They 
rattled gourds and banged drums, and made altogether 
a most diabolical and highly exciting row. Their 
heads all bobbed in unison; their elbows began to 
work; faster and faster went the music, louder and 
louder grew the din; and then, as they warmed up 
to the proper pitch, the outsiders would start up, 
bound into the center of the floor, and form a large 
circle facing inwards and revolving round the room. 

Sometimes they would all spring round and face 
us, grimacing and contorting their bodies, their facial 
•muscles and their limbs working and writhing with 
nervous excitement. Then they would jump round 
again, and present a back view to our gaze. High in 
the air they would leap, coming down with a spank 
of their flat moccasined feet upon the boards that 
made the rafters ring again. Now they would imitate 
the death of a buffalo, plunging headlong on the 
floor, rolling over and over in apparent agonies; now, 
mimicking attack, pursuit, or flight, they would yell 



THE CROW TRIBE 103 

their war-cries, and brandish their guns and pistols. 
Their bodies quivered with emotion, and perspiration 
poured from their faces; but the singers kept stimu- 
lating them to renewed exertion. They had no time 
to rest except when sometimes the music would 
slacken a little, and they would all join in a circle 
and sidle gently round the room. 

There was one old fellow whose appearance on 
these occasions, as viewed from behind, was very ab- 
surd. He was a middle-aged man and very stout; 
he wore a waist-cloth and leggings. Now an Indian's 
leggings reach only half way up the thigh; there is 
a spacious hiatus between them and the waist-cloth. 
In fact, when an Indian sits down he does not sit 
on his leggings, or on anything else except his own 
skin. A very short-tailed coat covered his shoulders, 
and his hair hung down behind in long plaits; he 
had cast aside his blanket, and a felt hat was on his 
head. When he capered facing inwards, brandish- 
ing a pistol in one hand, and a rifle in the other, his 
flesh shaking and quivering in a jelly-like manner, 
and his little coat-tails and long hair flapping up and 
down, it was almost too much; and it was with diffi- 
culty that we maintained a decorum suitable to the 
occasion. 

It was midnight before they finished the bull-dance ; 
yet they showed no signs of exhaustion, and would no 
doubt have gone on till morning: but the room, even 
when we entered it, was warm ; a stove burnt fiercely 
at one end, the door was blocked with human beings; 
and after two or three hours of dancing and perspir- 
ing, what little oxygen the apartment had originally 
contained had been replaced by free Indian, and the 



104 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

atmosphere became stifling and oppressive. So after 
a few complimentary speeches, and an invitation given 
and accepted to visit the camp next day, we separated, 
the Indians riding back to their lodges and the whites 
retiring to bed. 



CHAPTER IV 

RED MAN AND WHITE 

THE following morning Mr. Shane, the inter- 
preter, and I rode down to the Crow village. 
The lodges are tall, circular dwellings, com- 
posed of long fir-poles planted on a circle in the 
ground. These slope inwards and form a cone, meet- 
ing and leaning against each other at the apex; and 
upon them is stretched a covering of buffalo hides. 
They make very comfortable, clean and airy houses, 
and are far preferable to any tent, being much warmer 
in winter and cooler in summer. A teepee will hold 
from twelve to fifteen or even twenty individuals; 
several families, therefore, generally occupy one in 
common. The earth is beaten down hard, forming 
a smooth floor, and in the middle burns the fire, the 
smoke finding an exit through an aperture at the top. 
The portions of the teepee assigned to each family or 
couple are divided by a kind of wicker-work screen 
at the head and foot, separating a segment of a circle 
of about eight or ten feet in length and five or six 
in breadth, closed by the screen at either end, and at 
the outer side by the wall of the lodge, but being open 
towards the interior. The fire is common property, 
and has a certain amount of reverence paid to it. It 
is considered very bad manners, for instance, to step 
between the fire and the place where the head man 
105 



106 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

sits. All round, on the lodge poles and on the screens, 
are suspended the arms, clothing, finery, and equip- 
ment of the men and their horses. Each lodge forms 
a little community in itself. 

The teepees are pitched with all the regularity of an 
organized camp, in a large circle, inside which the 
stock is driven at night or on an alarm or occasion of 
danger. Outside the door is stuck a spear or pole, 
on which is suspended the shield of the chief and a 
mysterious something tied up in a bundle, which is 
great medicine. If a hawk or eagle happens to be the 
totem of the chief, one of those birds will very com- 
monly be seen perched on the shield. These totems 
are, in fact, their escutcheons or coats of arms, and 
they are exhibited without the lodge in the same manner 
as and for the same reason that knights used to dis- 
play their shields and banners before their tents. 

Let us suppose that we dismount and picket our 
horses at the lodge of the Bear that Sits on his 
Haunches, or some other warrior of renown. A few 
grave, dignified braves saunter up and look at us with 
a mixture of curiosity and contempt; a lot of obese 
little boys and girls, stark naked, gaze with undisguised 
astonishment; and a crowd of laughing, chaffing 
youngsters, clothed in the inevitable blanket, gather 
round. Some are completely shrouded in the folds of 
their blankets, but others, the day being warm, have 
lifted their skirts rather high. An Indian youth of 
sixteen or seventeen is generally very tall, thin, and 
angular, and if, as is sometimes the case, he has for 
coolness gathered his blanket up about his shoulders, 
his aspect is very peculiar. The interpreter sticks his 
head through the opening, pulling aside the buffalo 



RED MAN AND WHITE 107 

hide that serves for a door, and, stooping low, draws 
himself into the tent. I follow, and, stepping care- 
fully round the far side of the fire, seat myself by the 
chief, shake hands, and say "How!" 

This teepee was shared by three families. In one 
compartment were seated, on soft buffalo robes, the 
chief and myself; in another were two women, young 
and rather comely, and several papooses; incumbrances 
of the chief, — though among savages wife and children 
can scarcely be called incumbrances. In a third lay 
a very old man and an extremely fat woman, with 
whom the interpreter struck up an animated conver- 
sation, which, to judge by her wrigglings and giggling, 
must have been highly complimentary. Nature had 
made a good deal of her, and she was accustomed to 
being made still more of by the men, for her propor- 
tions were vast, and fat is highly prized among all 
dwellers in cold climates; and for that matter, I be- 
lieve, by nearly all savages, in whatever clime they 
live. A fourth division was occupied by a young 
couple, a nice clean-looking girl and a fine tall young 
man, who was evidently a great dandy, being feathered, 
painted, and dressed in his best clothes. A woman 
was bending over the fire looking after some cooking, 
and in a corner lay a man flat on his back and fast 
asleep. A lot of starved dogs were driven out when 
we entered, and the aperture through which we had 
come was speedily filled with peering curious faces of 
small boys and girls. 

The young couple attracted my attention; they ap- 
peared so fond of each other that I judged they must 
be a newly-married pair. The wife had not got a 
new dressing-case and did not appear elated, neither did 



108 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

the man look conscious or uncomfortable; but there 
were other signs sufficient to enable one to form a 
correct diagnosis. When we came in they were en- 
gaged in the pleasant pastime of eating beans and 
grease together out of the same dish. The repast 
finished, she reclined gracefully against a lodge pole, 
and he, covering his lithe limbs in the folds of his 
blanket, stretched himself out — replete, happy, and full 
of beans — to repose his head upon her lap, and to his 
head she without more ado applied herself. I thought 
she was going to plait his hair; but no, it was on a 
far nobler errand that her nimble fingers so swiftly 
sped. Man does not monopolize the pleasures of the 
chase, though he alone pursues the plodding buffalo 
and jumping deer. For his helpmate is reserved a 
smaller but more vivacious species of game, in the pur- 
suit and capture of which she must take great delight, 
to judge by the interest portrayed in this case on the 
countenance of the lady, as with unerring eye and un- 
faltering hand she, through the thick tangles of her 
husband's hair, hotly pressed the bounding fugitive, 
or, like the relentless bloodhounds, surely tracked to 
his lair the slow-crawling and unmentionable one. 

Of course the pipe was not long in making its ap- 
pearance, since nothing can be done in an Indian's 
house without that implement. A young man cut up 
some black plug tobacco on a board, mixed it with 
willow bark, filled the calumet, stuck a hot ember in 
the bowl, and presented it to the chief. He first blew 
a whiff to each of the four quarters, to the earth, and 
the sky, then drew a volume of smoke into his own 
interior, expelled it (I don't mean his interior, but the 
smoke) slowly with a satisfied sigh, and handed the 



RED MAN AND WHITE 109 

pipe to me. I took a pull or two and passed it on, 
and so it went to each man from left to right. The 
pipe must never be passed against the sun; but, when 
the last man to the right of the starting-point has 
smoked, it must be handed across and sent round 
again from left to right. 

After the smoke we had some dried meat and coffee, 
and then the son of the chief, a little fellow about five 
or six years old, stark naked, with his little stomach 
sticking out like a drowned puppy, came and presented 
me with a handsome pair of embroidered moccasins. 
The gift was accompanied by a very pretty and hos- 
pitable speech from the father to the effect that he was 
very sorry he had nothing better to give me, but that 
he had done the best he could; that he was very glad 
to see me; that he was a great warrior and a great 
hunter; that he lived on hunting, and cared only for 
hunting. All was said in the simple, poetical, eloquent 
language that Indians invariably employ. 

Then I noticed that his arm had once been broken, 
and questioned him about it ; and it turned out that it 
had been done by a bear, and that led to the whole 
story, so graphically told, and with such an infinite 
variety of appropriate action, that I only wish I could 
attempt to repeat it. He observed that I wore a dog- 
whistle made out of an alligator's tooth, and of course 
he must needs know all about that; and I had to try 
and convey to his mind some idea of Florida, and what 
sort of beast an alligator was, all of which was, I dare- 
say, retailed to the rest of the tribe with such embellish- 
ments that they probably put me down as the biggest 
liar who had ever come out of the East. 

And so an hour or two went quickly by ; and, having 



110 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

many visits of ceremony to pay, we shook hands, 
"howed!" and departed to another lodge. In every 
teepee we met with the same sort of reception; drank 
some coffee, tasted a morsel of meat out of compli- 
ment, and smoked. The chief would then present me 
with something— a buffalo robe, a knife scabbard, or 
pair of embroidered leggings; apologizing for the in- 
significance of the offering, and making a speech to 
welcome the stranger and to extol himself, something 
to the effect that he was glad to see you in his house; 
that his heart was open arid felt good towards you; 
that he was a great man and had struck many enemies ; 
that this scar was received in battle with the Sioux, 
that in a skirmish with the Blackfeet; that he was 
and always would be friendly to the whites; that he 
was a hunter, and would always live by hunting; that 
to eat the flesh of buffalo was his great delight; that 
he was fond of elk, deer, and all small game, and that 
to chase them was what his heart loved best. As we 
were returning to our horses I was attracted by a 
great drumming and singing going on in a lodge; and 
looking in we found six men gambling for the cart- 
ridges they had received the preceding night. They 
were playing at a game of chance called Cache. On 
the floor, in the center of the lodge, was spread a large 
buffalo robe to form the gaming-table, and on either 
side of this knelt, or squatted, four young men facing 
each other. 

The play of Cache is a game which, like Ah Sing, 
"I do not understand." It is a pretty pastime, and 
somewhat resembles the noble, physiognomical, and 
instructive game of coddam. In fact, the latter is 
but a civilized development of the former. In the one 



RED MAN AND WHITE 111 

case half-a-crown is used — that is to say, in polite 
circles; lower in the social scale, the more cumbrous 
and odoriferous penny may be substituted ; in the other 
case, the players have not got half-a-crown or even a 
penny, and so a piece of shell or bit of bone takes the 
place of the circulating medium. 

As far as I could judge, Cache is played in the fol- 
lowing manner. A buffalo robe or blanket usurps the 
uses of a table, and the performers gamble with an 
amount of liveliness and animation that would not 
be tolerated in the serene circles of polite society; be- 
traying their happiness at winning, and their disgust 
and disappointment at losing, with a childlike simplicity 
and guilelessness that, while gratifying to one's moral 
sense, is occasionally inconvenient to one's person- 
ality. 

In one way civilized performers surpass savage 
players. Careful study and lifelong attention paid to 
the art of unblushingly deceiving their friends, and in- 
cessant practice in telling taradiddles — varying in grade 
and texture from the delicately tinted and neatly 
fashioned white lie up to the crude, rough-hewn, 
stupendous crammer — have resulted in the acquirement 
by most educated beings of a power of controlling the 
countenance and concealing the emotions that is invalu- 
able in such games as poker, brag, or coddam. In this 
respect poor Mr. Lo 1 cannot compete with us. His 
ingenuous countenance betrays all too readily — the allu- 
sion is not to blushing — the passing emotions of his 
soul; his "untutored mind" leads him to express freely 

1 Throughout America, but principally in the Canadas, 
the Indian is called Mr. Lo, from Pope's lines in the 
"Essay on Man," beginning, "Lo ! the poor Indian." 



112 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

and forcibly the feelings of rage or exultation that 
agitate it, and so he is obliged to keep up a continual 
singing, drumming, and brandishing of his arms, to 
conceal by outward movements the varying passions 
that agitate him within. 

The game of Cache may be played by any number 
of persons, half being on one side and half on the 
other. The performers sit or kneel upon the ground 
opposite each other in two lines, a couple of yards or 
so asunder. Each party has a drum, and on this 
instrument the man stationed at the further end of 
the room keeps up, while his side is in, an incessant 
banging and tamborining (if I may be allowed to coin 
the word), hoping thereby to encourage the holder 
of the cache in his efforts at dissimulation, and trying 
to bewilder his adversary and thwart him in his at- 
tempts at discovery. The stakes having been agreed 
upon, they are placed upon the robe; an equal number 
of small sticks are given to the two leaders where- 
with to score, and play commences. 

The man on the left of the line takes in his hand 
the cache, which consists of a certain number of bits 
of bone or shell, or buttons — in fact, any small objects 
will do. He sits opposite the player who has to guess, 
and his great object is of course to deceive him and 
prevent him from indicating correctly which of his 
hands contains the bones or shells. With great rapidity 
and much violence of gesticulation he brandishes his 
arms, flourishing them in the face of his adversary, 
slipping his hands behind his own back, shaking them 
above his head, and continually passing and shifting 
the cache from one to the other. The drummer 
whacks upon his drum, and pumps out a spasmodic 



RED MAN AND WHITE 113 

song; his companions slap their hands, jerk their 
bodies, and grunt in unison; and the player, stimu- 
lated by the contagion of their rhythmical excitement, 
becomes more and more wild, and at last, when he 
thinks that his opponent is quite confused, dashes out 
both clenched fists and leaves him to guess in which 
hand and in what position lies the cache. If he indi- 
cates the wrong hand, his party loses one point. The 
holder of the cache goes on again, and his side sets up 
one stick. 

Each player has a certain number of chances, and, 
when he has expended them all, he goes out till his 
turn comes round again, and the next man has the 
guess. Every time some one guesses correctly, the 
cache is transferred to his side, and the others have 
in their turn to try and discover who has possession 
of it. Occasionally a man is found out directly; 
sometimes a player is so lucky and can so skilfully de- 
ceive his adversaries that he scores ever so many points 
before he is put out. Thus they go on winning and 
losing, putting up sticks and having them taken down 
again, until one side or the other has got possession 
of all the markers, when the game is over, and the 
stakes are paid to the fortunate party and divided 
among them. 

When we looked in the game was at a most critical 
stage. One side had acquired very nearly all the 
sticks; they held the cache, and the others were point- 
ing and pointing very unsuccessfully. The winning 
side looked triumphant. The fellow with the cache 
shook and brandished his fists, and dashed them out 
confidently, as much as to say, "You know you can't; 
you will never guess it right." The opposite players 



114 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

were frantic; their drummer beat with all his might; 
they spirted out their song through their set teeth in 
sharp spasmodic jets; they violently struck their ribs 
with both elbows in unison with the time, expelling 
their breath in guttural grunts; their bodies shook, 
their muscles quivered and twitched with intense ex- 
citement; the veins in their temples stood out in knots, 
and beads of sweat trickled from their brows. Their 
eyes were starting from their heads with eagerness, 
as they noticed the rapidly diminishing pile of sticks, 
and watched the actions of their guesser. He literally 
danced upon the ground as he sat — if a man in such a 
position can be said to dance. He seemed an incar- 
nation of nervous energy, and his anxiety as he threw 
out his hand and guessed was painful to see. The 
better to get at his naked body he held the tail of his 
shirt in his teeth, and at each unsuccessful venture he 
would smite his open palm with a resounding smack 
upon his brawny ribs, throw his body back onto his 
heels and swing it about, dashing his hands together 
above his head, as if supplicating for better luck next 
time. 

We did not stop to see the end of the game, but 
altogether it appeared to be a fine pastime, and would 
be useful I am sure at home, to burn up superfluous 
carbon on wet days when the soul-destroying croquet 
or most excellent game of lawn-tennis cannot be in- 
dulged in. There might be some difficulty about the 
adaptation, however; our clothes certainly would be 
somewhat in the way; and without the power of 
smacking one's-self, or, at any rate, one's neighbor, if 
one were losing, the game would lack half its charm. 

After seeing all that was worthy of notice in the 



RED MAN AND WHITE 115 

camp we rode back to the Mission, and that evening 
met all the chiefs again. I distributed a few blankets 
among them; and Dr. Wright made a speech recom- 
mending them to come to Sunday School, at which 
they all grunted. One of them then got up and in- 
vited me formally to accompany them and the Ban- 
nocks on their annual fall hunt in the Judith Basin; 
and, when I reluctantly refused, they wished me all 
sorts of good luck in hunting, and begged me to make 
good medicine for them. I promised to do so, and in 
turn wished them "heaps of buffalo and plenty of good 
wind to hunt them, an open winter, and not much 
snow;" which sentiment they very much applauded, 
striking the floor with their whip-handles, and ejacu- 
lating an unspellable exclamation which Fenimore 
Cooper writes hugh, but which sounds to me more like 
ahe. 

They were very pressing in their invitation to join 
in their buffalo hunt; and I regretted not being able 
to do so. I should have been treated with great con- 
sideration. For an honored guest the best lodging 
and food are prepared, and all that the wild man 
thinks best in the world would have been freely given. 
Many little delicate attentions, flattering but awk- 
ward, would have been paid to me. I should have 
had a teepee to myself with heaps of buffalo robes, and 
replete with all the comforts of camp, and all the 
luxuries in and out of season. Plenty of food for 
myself, lots of grass for my horses, a damsel strong 
and vigorous to cut grass and wood, draw water, and 
attend to the external economy of the establishment; 
and a more interesting young person to do the cook- 
ing, spread the robes, sew on my buttons, minister to 



116 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

all my personal wants, and look after the interior 
household arrangements, would doubtless have been 
provided. I should have had all I wanted and more 
besides. Our route to the buffalo range would have 
passed through a country reputed to be full of wapiti, 
deer, and bears. I longed to accept the invitation, 
but lack of time would not allQw of it; and so after 
another "howing" and handshaking we parted the 
best friends. 

Nor will I stop to calculate how much tea and 
sugar, pork and tobacco, suffice to convert a tribe or 
individual; or to notice how, in consequence of this 
peculiarity among the natives, Christianity rules high 
in years of scarcity, and has a downward tendency 
when buffalo are plenty. However degraded their 
religion may be, I doubt if a change ever is morally 
beneficial to a savage race. 

Roman Catholicism suits the red men best, with its 
spiritualism in some respects so like their own, its festi- 
vals and fasts at stated times resembling their green- 
corn dances and vigils; with its prayers and inter- 
cessions for the dead, its ceremonial, its good and evil 
spirits, its symbolism, its oblations, its little saints and 
medals. The red Indian does not see such a great 
difference between the priest and the medicine-man. It 
is a difference of degree, not of kind; and, if backed 
by a little pork and flour, he is apt to look upon the 
cross and medal as greater talismans than claws of 
beast and bits of rag and skin, and to think that the 
missionary makes stronger medicine than his priest. 

The dry, cold philosophy of the Methodist finds 
little favor with an imaginative race, worshiping the 
Great Spirit in the elements and in all the forms and 



RED MAN AND WHITE 117 

forces of Nature; thanking the Principle of Good for 
success in hunting and in war; propitiating the Evil 
Principle that brings the deep snows and stamps the 
lakes and rivers into solid ice, and carries in its train 
fever and starvation — that broods over them at night 
with the black shadows of its wings — that rides upon 
the wind, and hurls the arrows of its anger at them 
in the thunderstorm; asking advice of the shades of 
their ancestors; and peopling the air with ghosts and 
shadows, and the woods and mountains with phantasms 
good and evil. 

To the Indian's mind there is nothing intrinsically 
good or desirable in the doctrines of the various Chris- 
tian sects ; nor is there anything whatever in our mode 
of living or in our boasted civilization to prepossess 
him in favor of the religion of the white race. These 
red-skinned savages have no respect whatever for the 
pale-faces — men whose thoughts, feelings, occupations, 
and pastimes are entirely at variance with their own. 
Aliens they are to us in almost all things. Their 
thoughts run in a different channel ; they are guided so 
much more by instinct than by reasoning. They have 
a code of morals and of honor differing most mate- 
rially from ours. They attach importance to matters 
so trifling in our eyes, are gratified or offended by such 
insignificant details, are guided through life by rules so 
much at variance with our established methods, that it 
is impossible for us to foresee what, under particular 
circumstances, their conduct will be. They are in- 
fluenced by feelings and passions which we do not in 
the least understand, and cannot therefore appreciate. 
They show reverence to superstitions and religious 
ceremonies, which we, knowing nothing whatever 



118 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

about them, declare at once to be utterly foolish and 
absurd; and they attach much importance to ob- 
servances which seem to us almost as utterly mean- 
ingless and ridiculous as many of the doctrines preached 
by our missionaries must appear to them. 

White men who have dwelt all their lives with the 
Indians have to confess that they know very little 
about their inner lives, and understand nothing of 
the hidden springs of action, and of the secret motives 
that impel them to conduct themselves in the strange 
and inexplicable manner they sometimes do. A man 
may live for years and years with a tribe, have grown- 
up children among them, be in all things as one of 
themselves, and even be looked up to, liked and ap- 
preciated by them; yet occasionally a shadow will 
seem to get between him and his adopted brothers; 
their hearts feel bad towards him; his wife will tell 
him that he had better leave the town for a few days; 
and if he is wise he goes away out of sight, and lies 
quiet for a time. His wife brings him food, till after 
three or four days the cloud has blown over, and he 
can return to his lodge. Nobody would think of look- 
ing for him; but if he persisted in remaining in the 
village, and the men happened to meet him during 
such a period of excitement he would probably fall a 
victim to his obstinacy. It is impossible to account 
for the strange, unreasonable moods which occasionally 
possess these people. 

Judged by our standard, the Indians are as a rule 
cowards, and we suppose therefore that they must be 
convinced of our superiority in courage. Not a bit of 
it. They look upon our bravery as the height of folly, 
and find us lacking entirely in those great qualities 



RED MAN AND WHITE 119 

they so much admire. We cannot endure the tortures 
of physical pain or starve as they can. Their mode 
of carrying on war is quite dissimilar to ours, and they 
do not appreciate that desperate, bull-dog courage that 
leads a soldier to struggle to the bitter end against 
overpowering odds; nor do they highly esteem a man 
who is ready at all times to sacrifice his life for the 
cause. On the contrary; they would regard such a 
one as a fool who had parted with a valuable com- 
modity* namely his life, without obtaining an adequate 
return for it. 

Those chiefs are disgraced who bring back the war 
party with diminished ranks. Occasionally they make 
up their minds to a great effort, and expend a number 
of lives to compass the destruction of the enemy, as 
in the case of the Fort Phil Kearney massacre, when 
the Indians lost severely, but killed, if I remember 
aright, over eighty officers and men. Why it should 
be called a massacre, by the way, I don't know. If 
the Indians had all been killed instead of the soldiers 
it would have been a battle. They are not, I think, 
very prone to fight, and their great object in war is 
to do as much damage as possible without the loss of 
a single man. 

By hunting they live; and to keep their hunting- 
grounds intact, to drive off intruders, they must have 
many young men, the more the better, for there is no 
danger of an excess of population in an Indian tribe. 
It would not do to lose warriors in battle with the 
troops, and then fall an easy prey to the other divisions 
of their own race, always waiting for a chance to seize 
their tribal hunting-grounds and to drive them from 
the best portions of their territory. A life is very 



120 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

valuable to them. Hence it is that they admire the 
man who can creep, and watch, and lie out for days 
and nights in bitter cold and snow without food or 
warmth, and who, by infinite patience, cool courage, 
and a nice calculation of chances, secures a scalp or a 
lot of horses without risk to himself, but who, if he 
found circumstances unfavorable and the odds against 
him, would return without striking a blow. That is 
the man they look up to. So we do not impress them 
a bit by our superior bravery; they view with indif- 
ference the reckless courage and devotion upon which 
we set such store, and value very highly those qualities 
which we are inclined to despise. 

They know and acknowledge that we are numeri- 
cally much more powerful than they are. They see 
that we make better weapons, clothes, and ornaments 
than they can ; but dollars or hides will buy our rifles, 
pistols, shirts, beads, and blankets, and they are quite 
contented that we should make and that they should 
use them. They consider us very convenient as traders 
and producers, but attach no importance to our 
superiority over them in these respects. They would 
as soon think of estimating a squaw at a higher figure 
than a man, because she beads and makes his moc- 
casins, and tans the robes. 

The whites they come in contact with are not, as a 
rule, the best specimens of the race, and the Indian 
sees that we are lacking in many virtues that rule his 
actions and guide his life. A few of the leading men 
in various tribes are taken to Washington and New 
York, with a view of awing them with the evidences 
of our overwhelming numbers and of our skill and 
power. They are astonished at the numbers of men 



RED MAN AND WHITE 121 

they see. The agent who accompanied a party, I 
think it was of Arapahoes, told me that one chief took 
a stick with him to count the warriors of the pale 
faces, cutting a notch in it for every man he saw. 
Poor fellow! he soon got to the end of his stick, and 
finally went partially crazy, so bewildered was he 
with the vast multitudes of human beings in the 
eastern towns. 

But in these great cities they see just enough to 
degrade the inhabitants in their eyes. They can learn 
nothing of the blessings and advantages attendant on 
civilization. How can they appreciate our hospitals, 
schools, and charitable establishments, or our artistic, 
literary, and scientific associations? What can they 
know of the thousand-and-one emanations of our 
artificial mode of life, which make existence pleasant 
to certain classes among us? They see the worst only 
— the squalor, the wretchedness, the dirt, the crowd- 
ing together of the population, and they are startled 
at the discordant life of a great town. As to taking 
any wider or deeper view of our civilization, and look- 
ing forward to future benefits which, growing out of 
present miseries, may, when the machine is in better 
working order and runs smoother, gladden the days of 
generations yet to come — that they are incapable of 
doing : the present is sufficient for them. 

Besides, on the whole question as to what civilization 
is, the two races are hopelessly at variance. While we 
think we are advancing, they assert that we are going 
back. We hope and trust that we are on the right 
path; they say that we are hopelessly off the trail. 
They consider our lives altogether wrong, and look 
upon us with contempt, perhaps with a little pity. 



122 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

While fully acknowledging the fact of our preponder- 
ating strength, while seeing plainly before them the 
extermination of their race, and bowing their heads 
to sad necessity, they yet will not admit that we are in 
any respect their equals, man to man. They are the 
most strong-hearted, hard-headed people in this matter, 
submitting to the inevitable, but sturdily maintaining 
their self-respect. As to our railways, our wagons 
and carriages, our bridges, roads, houses, villages, 
towns, and cities, they are all utterly abhorrent to the 
Indian. He cannot understand what satisfaction we 
can find in the pursuit of business or in the pleasures 
that form the sum and substance of our lives. He 
cannot realize the state of society in which we exist, 
our thoughts and actions, our eating and drinking, our 
sleeping and waking, our occupations and our pastimes ; 
in fact, our whole scheme of life is so repulsive to him 
that he looks with surprise and contempt upon a race 
that finds existence bearable under such circumstances. 
Even when poor, cold, half-starved, he would not 
change places with any white man. With enough to 
eat, tobacco to smoke, horses, guns, and hides to trade 
for beads and finery, he is the happiest man on earth, 
for he is thoroughly contented with his lot. He is 
free, and he knows it. We are slaves, bound by chains 
of our own forging, and he sees that it is so. Could 
he but fathom the depths of a great city, and gauge 
the pettiness, the paltry selfishness of the inhabitants, 
and see the deceit, the humbug, the lying, the outward 
swagger, and the inward cringing, the toadyism, and 
the simulated independence; could he but see Mrs. 
Grundy enthroned in all her weighty majesty, paralyz- 
ing with her conventionalities all originality in the 



RED MAN AND WHITE 123 

brains of her subjects; could he but view the lives 
that might have been honorably passed, spent instead 
in struggling for and clutching after gold, and see the 
steps by which many a respected man has climbed to 
fortune, wet with the tears of ruined men and women ; 
could he appreciate the meanness of those who con- 
sider no sacrifice of self-respect too great, provided it 
helps them to the end and object of their lives, and 
pushes them a little higher, as they are pleased to call 
it, in society; could he but glance at the millions of 
existences spent in almost chronic wretchedness, lives 
that it makes one shudder to think of, years spent in 
close alleys and back slums, up dismal rotting courts, 
without a ray of sun to cheer them, without a mouth- 
ful of sweet" fresh air to breathe, without a flower or 
even a blade of grass, or any token, however humble, 
to show that there is somewhere a beautiful Nature — 
without one vestige of anything to make life graceful, 
but closed in forever with surroundings sordid, dismal, 
and debasing; — if he could take a broader view of the 
land, and note how we have blackened and disfigured 
the face of Nature, and how we have polluted our 
streams and fountains, so that we drink sewage instead 
of water ; — could he but see that our rivers are turned 
to drains, and flow reeking with filth, and guess how 
by our manufactures we have poisoned our rivers, de- 
stroyed our fish, and so impregnated the very air we 
breathe that grass will not grow exposed to the un- 
healthy atmosphere; — could he but take all this in, 
and be told that such is the outcome of our civilization, 
he would strike his open palm upon his naked chest, 
and thank God that he was a savage, uneducated and 
untutored, but with air to breathe, and water to 



124 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

drink; ignorant but independent, a wild but a free 
man. 

Nor is this feeling of contempt for white men con- 
fined to the pure-blooded Indian. I have never seen 
a half-breed that did not cleave to the savage and de- 
spise the civilized race. Many children of mixed 
marriages cannot speak a word of English; and the 
half-breed, whether Scotch, American, or French, in- 
variably prefers the society of his relations on the 
mother's side. Many of them, too, have had ample 
opportunities of understanding all the benefits of our 
system. But the one sentiment is almost universal. 
They will admit that the benefits which our advanced 
state of society has poured upon the human race are 
numerous and great. They will allow that there is 
much to be admired in the order of our lives; but, 
all the same, give them the forest and the prairie, the 
mountain and the vale. Let the rushing of great 
rivers, the wailing of the wind be their music; let 
their homes be the birch wigwam or skin tent; let 
trees, and stones, and flowers, and birds, and the forests 
and the wild beasts therein, be the books for them to 
read. The two lives are different utterly; both are 
good they will say, but the wild life is the best. 

So it is difficult for missionaries to make much head 
against the pride and prejudice, the instincts and feel- 
ings, of a race they scarcely understand. 

However, Dr. Wright was very sanguine, and I 
sincerely hope that good success may crown his efforts. 
Christianity may do something towards granting an 
euthanasia to a fast-vanishing, much-enduring, and 
hardly-treated people. Let us hope that it will. 

I should much have liked to stay a few days at the 



RED MAN AND WHITE 125 

Mission, and to have devoted a little time to a more 
careful study of the Crow tribe of Indians. I have 
always felt a keen interest in the red men; for though 
there is much to disgust us in their practices, pursuits, 
and manners, and though their ideas and customs are 
in most cases repugnant to us, yet a great deal that is 
instructive is also to be found among them, and valuable 
lessons may be learned from a people who, though far 
beneath us in many respects, are in some things our 
superiors. Many qualities, almost lacking in us, they 
have cultivated and brought to great perfection. 

I am by no means an enthusiast on the Red Indian 
question. A practical though slight acquaintance with 
many tribes has sufficed to dispel the illusions and 
youthful fancies that a severe course of study of 
Fenimore Cooper's works, of "Hiawatha," and books 
of that description engendered in my mind. Under 
the strong light of personal observation of their 
filthiness, of their debasing habits and ideas, the halo 
of romance that at one period of my life enveloped 
them has faded considerably, though it has not entirely 
disappeared. I have, not unnaturally, acquired a feel- 
ing of general hostility towards them; for on hunting 
expeditions they have bothered me much and have 
interfered considerably with my pleasure and comfort, 
as I am not one of those individuals who revel, or pre- 
tend to revel, in actual danger, and who delight, or 
say they delight, in anticipations of a row. I know 
too well what a nuisance they become, how incon- 
venient is their fondness for horseflesh, and their un- 
pleasant custom of following out the Mosaic law of 
"an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." If they 
confined their attentions to fulfilling the latter part only 



126 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

of the maxim I should not so much care, for dentistry 
is practiced to perfection in the States, and a whole 
set of teeth could be purchased tolerably cheap, and 
warranted capable of cutting through even a boarding- 
house beefsteak. But, unfortunately, it is a scalp 
for a scalp and a life for a life with them, and they 
don't care a bit what fellow's scalp or whose life 
they take in satisfaction for the loss of one of their 
tribe. So I am not disposed to be over-fond of Indians, 
or to gloss over their faults and magnify their virtues. 

But still I am fond of them ; I respect their instinct, 
I admire their intense love of freedom; and, while 
admitting that Cooper's heroes are somewhat imagi- 
nary, I must confess that the "noble red man" is not 
altogether such a mythical being as one school of writers 
would have us believe. He has some noble and ex- 
cellent traits of character, and it must not be forgotten 
that, although in common with all semi-civilized or 
totally savage people certain of his natural actions and 
thoughts are shocking to our ideas of decency and 
morality, yet the chief causes that render him obnox- 
ious to us are to be traced directly to the contaminating 
influence of white men. 

Indians, though sometimes mean and treacherous, yet 
often exhibit a grand simplicity and nobleness of 
character of which we should be envious. As a rule, 
they exercise great self-control, though now and then 
they break out in wild orgies and excesses of all kinds ; 
and, if they are frequently unsavory, they are always 
picturesque. 

Their misfortunes too, and the mere fact of their 
being a doomed and a disappearing race, enlist one's 
sympathies in their favor. 



RED MAN AND WHITE 127 

Had I been able to remain at the Mission, I could 
not have hoped and should not have attempted to do 
more than gratify my own curiosity; but it is a great 
pity that some one sufficiently well-versed in ethno- 
logical subjects to know what inquiries to make, and 
in which direction to push his researches, does not de- 
vote a little time to the North American Indians; for 
although late in the day, yet many scraps of valuable 
information might still be gleaned from that field 
bcffore the sun forever sets upon it. Though Indian 
bibliography is extremely voluminous, it does not, as 
far as I know, contain any work treating seriously and 
sensibly of their religious observances, their medicine- 
men, their ceremonies, their fasts, feasts, and festivals. 
It is true that the golden opportunity for collecting 
materials has been lost, and can never return ; but still 
something might yet be done. When white men first 
commenced to mingle much among the aborigines, and 
indeed among the western tribes, until about twenty 
or thirty years ago, they were almost invariably treated 
with kindness and courtesy. Confidence was placed 
in them ; they were admitted to the solemn dances and 
religious ceremonies, and heard the legends and tradi- 
tions of this strange race; and without doubt a great 
mass of matter extremely interesting to the student 
might have been gathered together. Unfortunately, 
most of the travelers and traders who visited the wild 
tribes in those days were too much occupied with their 
own business to bestow time or labor upon the affairs 
of others. A great many of the white men who were 
intimate with the natives in former days, or who now 
dwell among them, were and still are incapable, 
through lack of knowledge, of acquiring any useful 



128 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

information. Some are mere worthless outcasts of 
society, and those who by nature and education were 
fitted for the task seem to have considered the ab- 
surdities of the native priests as beneath the notice of 
Christians, and to have taken for granted that the 
ceremonial of their solemn occasions was a tissue of 
mere meaningless mummeries and impudent charlatan- 
ism, and as such unworthy of investigation. 

They may be quite right; but they have always 
argued on an assumption, and have never taken the 
trouble to prove or even to examine into the truth of 
their premises. A subject so important as the re- 
ligion of a people, whose social and religious lives are 
interwoven so closely as to be indistinguishable one 
from the other, should not be approached in such a 
frame of mind. Neither ought the most trivial forms, 
the most grotesque and senseless ceremonies, to be 
dismissed as unworthy of attention; for, if carefully 
sifted and laboriously analyzed, there is no doubt that 
the mass of absurdity would yield some little grain 
of knowledge for which a place is waiting somewhere 
in the scientific fabric of the world. 

Now, unluckily, most of the savage tribes have 
learned to so utterly distrust all white men that they 
will not communicate to them anything that they 
esteem sacred or worthy of respect. Years of ill- 
treatment have done their work, and have turned the 
native, formerly friendly and confiding, into a hostile 
and suspicious foe. He cannot believe in a pale-face 
having any disinterested motives for visiting or question- 
ing him ; he continually fears lest some mean advantage 
should be taken of his trust; he jealously hides from a 
contemptuous eye the mysteries which to him are very 



RED MAN AND WHITE 129 

dear and sacred; and he refuses his confidence to a 
people who have so frequently abused it, and upon 
whom he looks with aversion and contempt. 

A problem in many respects are the Red Indians to 
this day, and a problem they are likely to remain to 
the end; and, when they have passed forever from 
this earth, ethnologists will puzzle themselves vainly 
over a great mass of literature describing accurately 
enough their surface life, but not searching sufficiently 
deep among the hidden springs of action to afford re- 
liable data upon which to found a theory of the origin, 
history, and position, among creatures, of an extinct 
race of men. . . . 



CHAPTER V 

WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 

THOUGH we had determined over-night to leave 
early in the morning, so as to have plenty of 
time to reach Boteler's Ranch before dark, and 
though we were ready at the appointed time after 
bidding farewell to hospitable Dr. Wright, yet it was 
late before we did get away. A squaw-man was com- 
ing part of the way with us, and he, as is the custom 
with those semi-Indians, fiddled about the store for 
ever so long, and then had to go to camp to say good- 
by to his wife; and then his sister-in-law wanted a 
lift on the road, and jumped up behind him on the 
pony; and then a brother-in-law rode after him, and 
insisted upon having his rifle in case the Sioux should 
attempt to run off any of the horses during his absence; 
and then we passed the outlying picket of civilization, 
a dissipated-looking whisky shop, and we must needs 
take a drink with him; so that the sun was pretty 
high when we at last turned our horses' heads south 
and started off at a swinging gallop across the dusty 
plain. 

The squaw-man was a very jolly fellow, and en- 
livened the journey, when our pace permitted it and 
we were forced to walk through canons or over rocky 
grounds, with endless anecdotes and highly-flavored 
jokes, not very easy to digest. Like most of his kind, 

130 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 131 

he was light-hearted and happy, and galloped along 
across the level, swinging his whip, his felt hat on the 
back of his head, his long hair flapping on his shoulders, 
whooping, yelling, and singing at the top of his voice, 
out of sheer exuberance of animal spirits. These 
ebullitions, which were very cheering both to us and 
our horses, were not indulged in during the early part 
of the journey. On the contrary, we proceeded 
cautiously, and kept a bright look-out on either side 
until we were well through the first canon. A preda- 
tory band of Sioux from the plains had not long be- 
fore run off with some cattle and horses from close to 
the walls of Fort Ellis, and had killed two men near 
the Mission. 

The Crows reported that their young men, lying 
out in the passes watching, had detected a large war 
party of the same tribe coming up from the eastward. 
The Crow scouts had lost touch of them somehow, 
and nobody seemed to know whether they had re- 
treated on finding the Crows encamped in force about 
the Agency, or whether they had dispersed and scat- 
tered themselves among the mountains. It was the 
choke-cherry season; numbers of the Crow Indians 
were wandering about gathering fruit, and it would 
have been difficult for any hostile band to approach the 
Agency undiscovered, a fact which was very reassur- 
ing; but still there was a feeling of uneasiness in the 
air. Dr. Wright told us to be very careful, and, un- 
til the first gorge in the range had been placed be- 
tween us and our possible enemies, we kept our "eyes 
skinned" and all our senses on the alert. 

The tribes of the Dakota, horsemen by nature, men 
bred upon the plains, are out of their element entirely 



132 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

in the woods or among the hills. On the broad prairies 
is their home, and they rarely venture far from those 
congenial wastes. They hang about the passes and 
make a dash occasionally into the Gallatin Valley, but 
have never, I believe, been known to extend their 
forays down the valley of the Yellowstone. The 
ranges on either side of the river would prove im- 
passable to their ponies; the entrance could be easily 
blocked up by a few men, and into such a trap the 
Sioux warriors are much too experienced to enter. 

The trail has a course nearly due south, following 
the direction of the river. At a few miles from the 
Mission it enters the lower canon, and passing through 
it, emerges into a fine plain of about thirty miles in 
length and eight or ten in breadth. Near the head of 
this valley is Boteler's Ranch. . . . 

We lay two days at Boteler's, hiring pack animals, 
and manufacturing packing-straps, hooks, and girths 
(or cinches, as the Americans call them) ; and we se- 
cured the services of Fred Boteler to act as guide. 
Active, strong, willing and obliging, a keen hunter, 
always in good humor, capable of enduring great hard- 
ship, and a capital hand at making you comfortable 
in camp, I can confidently recommend him to any one 
visiting these parts. 

While the others worked, Campbell and I went out 
hunting to supply camp, and a nice mess we made of 
it. We started out into the hills at the back of the 
house, not knowing exactly where to go, and the first 
thing we came across was a dead bear. He was too 
far gone to skin (which was a pity), so we went on 
till we passed out of the region of foot-hills altogether, 
and struck a beautiful-looking country for black-tail 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 133 

deer, among the first ridges of the mountains. Great 
masses of pine timber alternating with spurs striking 
out from the mountains, wooded on the top but grass- 
covered on the sides, and valleys bisected by little 
streams trickling through belts of poplar and aspen, 
made a perfect feeding-ground for deer. And in fact 
so it turned out to be, for we had not gone far before 
we started three does, but failed to get a shot. 

Not knowing the nature of the ground, we had 
gone out in boots, and among the withered leaves and 
dead sticks that littered the earth we had no chance 
whatever of getting near a deer. Snap would go a 
dry stick underfoot, followed immediately by a crashing 
among the branches in the distance, and on stooping 
down we would just catch a glimpse of a brown 
shadow bounding through the trees. We tried it in 
our stockings, but either our feet were not hard 
enough, or the ground was too hard, too thickly 
covered with prickles and littered with sharp stones; 
so we were altogether beat, and, tired and disgusted, 
after starting several deer without getting a shot, we 
turned our backs to the setting sun and made for 
camp. 

On the way we found a herd of twenty antelope, 
and Campbell made a beautiful stalk, taking me up 
to them over almost level ground, the only cover being 
tufts of coarse grass, a few sage-brushes, and nearly 
imperceptible irregularities in the surface. It was a 
very long crawl, and, like the serpent, on our bellies 
we had to go all the way. But patience was rewarded, 
and at length, with hands and knees full of cactus 
spikes and spicules of grass, we got right among the 
herd, and lay watching them for some time. 



134 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

I had never been so near to antelope before, and 
was glad of the opportunity of observing their actions. 
There was only one buck among them. He had such 
a splendid head that I determined to take him first, 
and chance getting a doe — which would be the better 
venison of the two — with the second shot. The old 
buck was lying broadside on, not twenty-five yards 
from me; he took no notice whatever, but the does 
were uneasy all the time. At last I gently with my 
gun-barrel put aside the coarse stems of the grass be- 
hind which I was lying at full length, and, sighting 
for his shoulder, fired. At the report the whole herd 
bounded to their feet, and with a snort or rather 
whistle of surprise and terror made off at a pace that 
only an antelope can keep up. I was so surprised and 
annoyed at seeing the buck galloping off with the 
others, and evidently unhurt, that I forgot the second 
barrel altogether, and stood gazing in open-mouthed 
astonishment. How I missed that antelope I cannot 
even now make out. I must have fired clean over his 
back, I suppose. Campbell ought to have consoled 
me after the manner of stalkers, and made excuses, 
and said the beast was five yards further than he had 
guessed him to be, or that a puff of wind had come 
just as I pulled, and that at the same moment the 
sun had suddenly glinted out; but he merely observed 
that it was "most extraordinary, a great peety, and a 
vara bad shot"; and I relieved my feelings by assert- 
ing that it was all his fault, as he had loaded "Twi- 
light," 1 and he must have put in too much powder. 

And so we went home, and were laughed at and 

* The name of a favorite muzzle-loading rifle. 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 135 

chaffed by our own folk and by the whole family of 
Botelers. The cook said there was no meat, and 
muttered that we could not hunt "nohow"; and Jack 
supposed that he would have to go next time; and 
Kingsley pointed to a fine dish of fish, and said it was 
lucky somebody could get something to eat; and 
finally we had to go penitentially, armed with dollars 
and our knives, and ask leave to buy, catch, and kill 
one of Mr. Boteler's pigs, which we did, and ate some 
with our humble pie. 

Campbell and I, abandoning sport, spent the next 
day in assisting the others to get things into ship-shape 
and dividing the baggage into bundles of a size and 
weight suitable for packing; for though the trail from 
Fort Ellis, by which our impedimenta had been trans- 
ported by wagon, continues up to the Hot Springs of 
Gardiner's River — forty miles beyond Boteler's — yet 
we were obliged to transfer the loads to pack-mules 
here, there being no chance of obtaining animals at the 
other end. 

The following morning we made a start, and a most 
peculiar start it was. It were tedious to note the 
petty particulars of every day's progress. In place 
thereof, I will try to impart to the reader, once for 
all, some idea of the pleasures and miseries, the com- 
forts and inconveniences, attendant upon "packing." 

Nothing is so abominably temper-trying as journey- 
ing with pack animals. Some of the beasts will not 
feed if they are picketed; and, as it is essential they 
should eat well, you picket one or two only, and turn 
loose the rest. You have a long way to go, we will 
suppose, and get up early in the morning determined 
to make a good day's march, and, while the cook is 



136 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

getting breakfast, send a man off to drive in the stock. 
The rest of the party strike the tents, make up the 
bundles, eat their breakfast, and then begin to wax 
impatient, and wonder what has become of the man 
and the beasts. Presently he comes in with the pleas- 
ant intelligence that three-fourths of the stock have 
left, that he cannot see them anywhere, and that the 
ground is so hard he cannot trail them. Off you all 
go, some on foot, others mounted on the remaining 
horses, and in two hours' time or so the runaways are 
found and driven in. It is needless to say that they 
had abandoned very fine pasture and wandered many 
miles to find grass not half so good. 

Well, this delay has not tended to improve your 
temper, and then the beasts have to be caught, and 
that is no easy job, and a good deal of kicking and 
cursing takes place. At last they are all secured, and 
you proceed to pack. 

A man stands on each side of the mule to be operated 
upon; the saddle, a light wooden frame, is placed on 
his back and securely girthed ; and a long rope is looped 
into proper form and arranged on the saddle. The 
side packs are then lifted into position on each side of 
the saddle and tightly fastened; the middle bundle is 
placed between them, a few sgare articles are flung on 
the top, a tent is thrown over all, and the load is ready 
to be secured. The rope is so fixed that the fall, as it 
were, is on one side and the slack is taken in on the 
other. Each man places one foot against the pack 
or the animal's ribs, and, throwing the whole weight 
of his body into the effort, hauls with all his strength 
upon the line ; one pulling on the fall, the other gather- 
ing in and holding all the slack, like two sailors sweat- 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 137 

ing down the jib-purchase. At each jerk the wretched 
mule expels an agonized grunt, snaps at the men's 
shoulders, and probably gives one of them a sharp 
pinch, which necessitates immediate retaliation. The 
men haul with a will, squeezing the poor creature's 
diaphragm most terribly; — "nothing like cinching 
them up tight," as they say. Smaller and more wasp- 
like grows his waist; at last not another inch of line 
can be got in, and the rope is made fast. "Bueno," 
cries the muleteer, giving the beast a parting spank 
behind which starts it off, teetering about on the tips 
of its toes like a ballet-dancer. The unfortunate beast 
has assumed the appearance and proportions of an 
hourglass, large at each end and exceedingly small in 
the middle. The apparent sufferings of that mule 
arising from undue compression of its digestive ap- 
paratus are pitiable to behold; but it is all "kid"; the 
heart of a mule is deceitful altogether, and in an hour's 
time that pack will require tightening again. 

Having done with one animal, the packers proceed 
to the next, and so on through the lot. While you 
are busy with the others, Nos. 1 and 2 have occupied 
themselves in tracing mystic circles in and out, among 
and round and round several short, stumpy, thickly 
branching firs, and, having with diabolical ingenuity 
twisted, tied, and tangled their trail-ropes into inex- 
tricable confusion, are standing there patiently in their 
knots. No. 3, on whose back the brittle and perishable 
articles have been entrusted, he being regarded as a 
steady and reliable animal of a serious turn of mind, 
has acquired a stomach-ache from the unusual constric- 
tion of that organ, and is rolling over and over, 
flourishing all four legs in the air at once. No. 4, 



138 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

who carries the bedding, a pack bulky but light, and 
measuring six feet in diameter, has thought to run be- 
tween two trees only five feet six inches apart, and, 
hopelessly jammed there, is trying vainly to back out 
stern first. She is a persevering creature, and will in 
time back herself out of the pack altogether. Nos. 5 
and 6, fidgeting and twisting about as only mules can 
do, come into violent and unexpected collision with 
each other behind, and with ears laid back and tails 
tucked between their legs are squealing and letting 
fly, as if they never expected to have another chance 
of kicking in this world. 

It is no use interfering; nothing will stop them. 
You may use language strong enough to split a rock, 
hot enough to fuse a diamond, without effect; you 
may lay hold of the trail-ropes and drag as hard as you 
like, but you might as well catch the tail end of an ex- 
press train and expect to stop it. It is wiser to re- 
frain from all active intervention, for possibly you 
may be kicked; certainly you will be knocked down 
and dragged about the place in a sitting posture, to 
the great destruction of your pants. You may, and 
of course you do, curse and swear your "level best"; 
but it does not do a bit of good. Go on they will, 
till they kick their packs off; and then they must be 
caught, the scattered articles gathered together, and 
the whole operation commenced afresh. 

At last things are all fixed. Boteler leads off on his 
riding-horse, old Billy, for the mules know him and 
will follow him anywhere; and the pack animals 
straggle after. We take a careful look over the place 
lately occupied by our camp, to see that nothing is 
left behind; coil up our lariats, tie them behind the 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 139 

cantle, take our rifles, swing into the saddle, and spread 
out in open files, some behind, some on the flanks, to 
keep the cavalcade in order. All goes very nicely for 
awhile; the beasts are plodding along, very slowly it 
is true, for some will wander, while others will stop 
to graze; when suddenly Satan enters into the heart 
of the hindermost animal. A wild ambition fires 
his soul; he breaks into a trot, and tries to pass to 
the front. A tin bucket begins jangling on his back; 
he gets frightened at the noise, and breaks into a 
canter. The bucket bangs from side to side; all the 
small articles in the pack rattle and shake; an ax gets 
loose, and the handle drops and strikes against his 
ribs; he fancies that there must be something alive 
upon his back hurting and belaboring him — something 
that must at any price be got rid of. A panic seizes 
him, and, wild with fright, he breaks into a mad 
gallop. Yells of entreaty, volleys of oaths are hurled 
at him; two of us try to cut him off, and only add to 
his terror and make matters worse. The pack begins 
to slip over his tail; mad with ungovernable fear, 
blind with terror, he kicks, squeals, and plunges. A 
saucepan flies out here, a lot of meat-cans there ; a sack 
of flour bursts open and spills its precious contents 
over the ground; the hatchet, innocent cause of all 
the row, is dangling round his neck; a frying-pan is 
wildly banging about his quarters; until at last he 
bucks himself clean out of the whole affair and, trem- 
bling and sweating with fear, stands looking on the 
havoc he has wrought, and wondering what on earth 
the noise was all about. 

After a few days things settle down into their 
places, and everything works smoothly enough ; but, at 



140 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

the best, traveling with pack mules is a slow and 
weary process. To keep up about fifteen miles a day 
for any length of time is good work; and a great deal 
of time is wasted every morning in getting the animals 
in and fixing their loads. Mules are proverbially ob- 
stinate, and the specimens with which I have had the 
honor of being acquainted have not belied their repu- 
tation. "To exhort the impenitent mule" is a fashion- 
able attainment in the territories; and, to become a 
good driver of ox or mule teams, a man must learn the 
art of hard swearing. Such a man as that Pike, 
mentioned by Clarence King in his delightful book, 
"Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada," commands 
high wages. The scene is so well described that I 
cannot refrain from quoting it : — 

"The great van rocked, settled a little on the near 
side, and stuck fast. 

"With a look of despair the driver got off and laid 
the lash freely among his team; they jumped and 
jerked, frantically tangled themselves up, and at last 
all sulked and became stubbornly immovable. Mean- 
while a mile of teams behind, unable to pass on the 
narrow grade came to an unwilling halt. 

"About five wagons back I noticed a tall Pike, 
dressed in a checkered shirt, and pantaloons tucked 
into jack-boots. A soft felt hat worn on the back of 
his head displayed long locks of flaxen hair, which 
hung freely about a florid pink countenance, noticeable 
for its pair of violent little blue eyes and facial angle, 
rendered acute by a sharp long nose. 

"This fellow watched the stoppage with impatience, 
and at last, when it was more than he could bear, 
'Walked up by the other team with a look of wrath 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 141 

absolutely devflish. One would have expected him to 
blow up with rage; yet withal his gait and manner 
were cool and soft in the extreme. In a bland, almost 
tender voice, he said to the unfortunate driver, 'My 
friend, perhaps I can help you/ and his gentle way of 
disentangling and patting the leaders would have given 
him a high office under Mr. Bergh. He leisurely ex- 
amined the embedded wheel, and cast an eye along the 
road ahead. He then began in rather an excited 
manner to swear, pouring it out louder and more pro- 
fane, till he utterly eclipsed the most horrid blasphemies 
I ever heard, piling them up thicker and more fiendish 
till it seemed as if the very earth must open and engulf 
him. 

"I noticed one mule after another give a little squat, 
bringing their breasts hard against the collars and 
straining traces, until only one old mule, with ears 
back and dangling chain, still held out. The Pike 
walked up and yelled one gigantic oath; her ears 
sprang forward, she squatted in terror, and the iron 
links grated under her strain. He then stepped back 
and took the rein, every trembling mule looking out 
of the corner of its eye and listening at qui vive. 

"With a peculiar air of deliberation and of child- 
like simplicity he said in every-day tones, 'Come up 
then, mules.' 

"One quick strain, a slight rumble, and the wagon 
rolled on to Copple's." 

Getting into camp in the evening is not nearly such 
a lengthy operation as getting out of it again in the 
morning; — in this respect it resembles getting in and 
out of the bed of civilization. Men soon get used to 
it, and learn instinctively to undertake each a separate 



142 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

job, and not to interfere with one another. One of 
us, Jack for instance, would ride ahead, and pick a 
suitable place with plenty of grass, wood, water, good 
shelter from the wind, and a nice level soft place for 
the tents. Having fixed upon a spot, he would await 
our arrival. The mules, as soon as they caught sight 
of his pony unsaddled and cropping the grass, would 
know that the end of their troubles was near, and 
would press forward, each animal trying to get in first 
and be relieved of its heavy burden. " Where will 
you have the tents ?" I ask, riding up in front of the 
outfit. "There is a nice place," says Jack; "dry, 
sheltered, and level. I think they will do very well 
there with the backs to the north." "All right" ; and 
the animal bearing the tents and bedding is led to 
the indicated place. "Where shall I put the fire, sir?" 
inquires the cook. "There, in that little hollow," re- 
plies Jack ; "there is plenty of dead wood close by, and 
the wind will blow the smoke clear of the tents." 
"Not much of a place that for a fire; they seem to 
think I can cook anywhere; how the devil do they 
expect me to manage I wonder?" grumbles Maxwell 
to himself. He is sure to develop some sort of griev- 
ance. It is either too far from water or not far 
enough; the wood is all wet, is bad in quality or in- 
sufficient in quantity ; something or other is the matter ; 
but, all the same, he conducts his mule to the place, 
lights a little fire, and busies himself in arranging 
his batterie de cuisine. 

Two men attend to each animal as he comes in, 
loosen the ropes, and ease down the pack. The tired 
beast walks off, has a good refreshing roll, and pro- 
ceeds to graze. I take the ax, walk down to the 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 143 

creek, and speedily return with six long straight sap- 
lings for tent-poles, and a lot of short stout sticks for 
pegs. These I throw down, and go off to cut fire- 
wood. Dr. Kingsley puts his rod together and gets 
a dish of trout for supper and breakfast. Boteler 
takes care of the stock, leads them to water if necessary, 
drives them into good pasture, and pickets some of 
them. Campbell and Jack set up the tents, pitch out 
all the stones and fir-cones, cut down the stumps and 
roots with a shovel or ax, and stamp the surface smooth 
with their feet ; then cut a lot of long dry grass, spread 
it evenly over the ground, and unroll the buffalo robes 
and blankets. Each man places his bag or bundle at 
the head of his bed, and lays his rifle, cartridges, and 
pistol beside it; rummages out his tobacco-pouch and 
pipe, a pair of dry moccasins and socks, or anything 
else he requires to make himself comfortable; then 
goes down to the creek with a lump of soap and a 
coarse towel, and removes in its icy cold water the dust 
and travel-stains of the day's march. Somebody sug- 
gests a drink; the keg is produced, and a little old 
Bourbon at the bottom of a tin pannikin, very slightly 
diluted with water, gives just the amount of stimulus 
to the system that is required, freshens you up, and 
makes you feel ready for the supper which your nose 
ascertains is nearly ready for you. 

After dinner all hands are pretty tired and soon go 
to rest, for late hours are not fashionable in these 
parts. But there are two or three things to be done 
first, and some necessary precautions to be taken. 

If it is cold we shall have pitched the three tents 
on the circumference of a circle, the center of which 
would be a point about four or five yards in front of 



144* HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

them, and two or three large trunks of fallen trees 
must be rolled and lugged into camp, cut into twelve- 
foot lengths, and a large bonfire made that will radiate 
heat through the canvas and keep us warm all night. 
If there is any chance of rain a prudent man will dig 
a little trench round the tent, for nothing is more dis- 
gusting than to wake and find yourself and your bed- 
ding soaked through, and a gradually increasing flood 
invading the floor of your abode. It is not amusing 
to spend a long night sitting on your saddle, with your 
knees tucked up, in the middle of a muddy sea, wish- 
ing for the day. 

By the time all this is done it is getting late. Camp- 
bell and Maxwell have finished their supper and 
washed up the things, and are now quarreling about 
who shall have the best side of their tent. The 
Doctor lies flat on his back by the fire, his head sup- 
ported by a saddle, a smile of ineffable content steal- 
ing over his countenance under the soothing influence 
of the divine weed. Jack, who is of course also smok- 
ing — he always is smoking, except when he is eating, 
and the few minutes he is obliged to devote to masti- 
cation are grudgingly given — is holding forth to the 
rest of us, telling us some thrilling tale of cattle raids 
away down by the Rio Grande on the Mexican 
frontier; graphically describing some wild scurry with 
the Comanches on the plains of Texas; or making 
us laugh over some utterly absurd story narrated in 
that comical language and with that quaint dry humor 
which are peculiar to the American nation. Boteler 
is lying on his stomach, toasting on a willow-wand a 
final fragment of meat. He does not use tobacco, and 
eats all the time that others smoke. He is greatly 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 145 

relishing Jack's story, except when some not over- 
complimentary allusion to the Yankees comes in; for 
Boteler served in the Federal Army during the great 
Civil War, while Jack, Virginian born and raised in 
Texas, naturally went in for the Southern side. I 
am squatting Indian fashion, wrapped in my blanket, 
for it is getting chilly; and Wynne is reclining on his 
elbow, warming on the embers his last pannikin of tea. 
Pipes are let out; men begin to yawn. Wynne and 
Kingsley say "good-night," and go to their tent. Jack 
also prepares to go to bed ; and, after pondering awhile 
whether he will take off his leather breeches or not, 
finally decides not to do so. I linger somewhat, gaz- 
ing into the embers, reluctant to leave the pleasant 
warmth of the fire; then, after turning the logs and 
rolling on a fresh chunk of wood, I call up Tweed, 
and together we creep into the little tent where I find 
Jack already in the land of dreams. The dog turns 
round and round three or four times, and with a 
long sigh of satisfaction curls up at my feet. I double 
up my coat on the saddle and place it under my head 
for a pillow, tie up the door, roll up in my blanket, 
and lie down and feel more comfortable than in the 
most luxurious bed. For a little while I lie blissfully 
awake, listening to the sighing of the pine trees, the 
whisper of the night wind to the aspens, and the low 
murmuring of the little stream; watching through 
the thin canvas the moving shadows of the branches, 
cast by the broad full moon sailing overhead through 
a cloud-flecked sky; or blinking drowsily at the red 
and faltering flicker of the firelight; until in sweet 
slumber I wander imperceptibly across the borders of 
reality and fact, and revel in the delicious incongruities 



146 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

of a pleasant dream, or glide into the utter oblivion of 
sound deathlike sleep. 

About one or two in the morning I awake (probably 
Tweed has got cold and, leaving his nest at my feet, 
has tried to get nearer to my body) and find the fire 
burning brightly, and Jack sitting up in bed smoking, 
for he is of a wakeful disposition, and has been out to 
look about and put on some fresh fuel. We have a 
smoke and a talk, see what time it is, get sleepy and 
curl up again. The next time consciousness invades 
me I hear Jack outside, yawning, stretching, stamping 
on the ground, and making all manner of strange 
Indian noises. The morning star is high, the east is 
getting white, and it is time to get up. A muttered 
damn from the other tent, grunts and growls from 
Campbell and the cook announce that the camp is 
awake. One by one the inmates crawl out of their 
beds; toilets don't take long, consisting as they do 
of a shake and a stretch and a little eye-rubbing. The 
fire is freshened up. Jack, after the manner of his 
race, takes a good square honest drink of whisky 
"straight," while hot coffee dispels the vapor of the 
night and clears the cobwebs from the brains of the 
rest of us. The stock is driven in, and while breakfast 
is preparing we make ready for the work of another 
day. 

A start very like that which I have attempted to 
describe above was made on leaving Boteler's Ranch on 
Tuesday morning. It was a cold sleety day, enlivened 
by occasional hailstorms. The animals were all chilly 
and out of temper — a state of things which was some- 
what shared in by the men. Boteler led the way, 
followed by the pack mules; then came Campbell on 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 147 

a diminutive pony, his long legs almost trailing on the 
ground, accompanied by the cook, sulky as all niggers 
are in cold weather, hung round with baskets, cans, 
buckets, jars, and all sorts of kitchen impedimenta, 
which he could not stow away; and the Doctor, Jack, 
and I brought up the rear. Many mishaps we had 
during that day's march of eight miles, and right glad 
we were to get into camp at the end of it. 

Though the weather was still disagreeable, we got 
along much better on Wednesday, making a very fair 
march, and camping comfortably on a little creek (the 
name of which I forget) that discharges itself into the 
Yellowstone. 

Being very unwilling to go to the Geysers without 
Wynne, whom I now expected every day, I determined 
to leave a permanent camp there, and, taking one pack 
mule and a spare horse, to go up into the mountains 
for a few days' hunt. Accordingly, the next morning 
four of us, taking only the two light mosquito bars 
and a blanket apiece, started up the creek. We at 
first experienced some difficulty in making our way. 
The creek bottom was quite impracticable, and 200 or 
300 feet above it the slopes were so steep that the 
animals could scarcely retain their foothold on the 
slippery grass. We might have left the valley alto- 
gether by ascending one of the spurs that led out of 
it up to the mountains, and following along the crests ; 
but it was doubtful whether we could have descended 
further on. We therefore made the best course we 
could below, and, by carefully picking the way, we got 
along safely enough, and after a few miles struck a 
strong deer-trail leading in the direction we wished to 
go, and followed it. 



148 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Towards the lower end of this valley the sides are 
composed of washed-down deposits, detritus, and fallen 
debris, forming hillocks, water-worn by numerous 
little rills covered with short slippery grass, and slop- 
ing very steeply towards the creek that brawls along 
below, fringed with poplars, alders, and aspens. The 
middle portion is quite different ; the stream flows with 
a more steady current through pine woods ; the ground 
slopes gently upwards, covered on one side by dense 
forest, on the other broken into little parks and glades, 
till it abuts on a long impassable scrap, above which 
the mountains tower in successive slopes and cliffs. A 
little further on the valley closes up somewhat, leav- 
ing only a narrow strip of comparatively level ground 
near the creek, from which the mountain rises very 
steep, but still practicable for a height of about 2,000 
feet or so. 

At that elevation a sort of plateau exists, tolerably 
level, well timbered and covered with good grass. It 
gradually rises towards the east, and extends quite to 
the head of the ravine, where it terminates among the 
mountains. At the opposite side to us, that is to say, 
on the south, this plateau leads up to a sheer precipice, 
which forms the northern crest of another valley. The 
upper part of the gorge is very marshy; and just at 
the head, where the creek, dividing into numerous 
little forks and branches, takes its rise, it forms a cir- 
cular basin, the bottom and sides of which are made 
of mud-heaps washed down from the peaks. This 
soft deposit is cut by numerous little rills into deep 
dykes, wet, slippery, and full of dead trunks of dwarf 
junipers and cedars. The mountains themselves, con- 
stituting the rim of the basin, are composed of or 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 149 

coated with thick tenacious clay. This substance, wet 
with the constantly falling and quickly melting snow, 
is indescribably slippery, and forms about the most 
dangerous ground that it has ever been my lot to walk 
over. 

Two or three tributaries discharge their waters into 
the principal creek, through small gulches and valleys; 
and in one place a great circular break occurs in the 
mountains, rimmed round by steep broken cliffs. Up 
this principal stream we wound our way towards the 
head of the valleys, half asleep, for the day was very 
hot — one of those blazing "foxy" days (as sailors would 
say) that frequently occur in the middle of a cold 
stormy spell, and indicate worse weather to come — 
when all of a sudden, skip! jump! away went three 
deer leaping through the trees, flourishing their white 

tails after the manner of their kind. " ," says 

Jack, "there goes our supper! Why the — don't you 
fellows in front look out?" Well, we fellows in front 
did look out after that, and before long I jerked my 
horse on to his haunches and slid quietly off. The 
others followed my example without a word, for they 
too had caught a glimpse of the dark-brown forms of 
some wapiti feeding quietly in the wood. Boteler, in 
his enthusiasm, seized me violently by the arm and 
hurried into the timber, ejaculating at every glimpse 
of the forms moving through the trees, "There they go! 
There they go! Shoot! Now then! There's a 
chance." All the time he was dragging me along, and 
I could no more shoot than fly. At last I shook my- 
self clear of him, and, getting a fair easy shot at a 
large fat doe, fired and killed her. 

Wapiti are the stupidest brutes in creation ; and, in- 



150 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

stead of making off at once, the others all bunched up 
and stared about them, so that we got two more before 
they made up their minds to clear out. There was 
a fine stag in the herd, but, as is usually the case, he 
managed to get himself well among the hinds out of 
harm's way, and none of us could get a chance at him. 
Boteler and I followed his tracks for an hour, but 
could not come up with him; and, finding that he had 
taken clear up the mountain, we returned to the scene 
of action. There we found the rest of the party 
busily engaged in gralloching and cutting up the huge 
deer. One of them was a yeld hind, 1 in first-rate 
condition and as fat as butter. We were very glad of 
fresh meat, and, as the ground was very suitable, de- 
termined to camp right there, and send some of the 
flesh down to the main camp in the morning. Accord- 
ingly, having skinned and hung up the quarters and 
choice pieces of venison, we pitched our Lilliputian 
tents at the foot of one of a hundred huge hemlocks, 
lit a fire, and proceeded to make ourselves comfortable 
for the night. 

We were all smoking round the fire — a most atten- 
tive audience, watching with much interest the culinary 
feats which Boteler was performing — when we were 
startled by a most unearthly sound. Jack and Boteler 
knew it well, but none of us strangers had ever heard 
a wapiti stag roaring before, and it is no wonder we 
were astonished at the noise. The wapiti never calls 
many times in quick succession, as his little cousin the 
red stag of Europe frequently does, but bellows forth 
one great roar, commencing with a hollow, harsh, un- 
natural sound, and ending in a shrill screech like the 

1 Barren doe. — Ed. 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 151 

whistle of a locomotive. In about ten minutes this fel- 
low called again, a good deal nearer, and the third time 
he was evidently close to camp; so Jack and I started 
out, in the company of "Twilight," and, advancing 
cautiously, we presently through a bush distinguished 
in the gloom the dark body and antlered head of a 
real monarch of the forest as he stalked out into an 
open glade and stared with astonishment at our fire. 
He looked perfectly magnificent. He was a splendid 
beast, and his huge bulk, looming large in the uncertain 
twilight, appeared gigantic. He stood without be- 
traying the slightest sign of fear or hesitation; but, as 
if searching with proud disdain for the intruder that 
had dared to invade his solitude, he slowly swept 
round the branching spread of his antlers, his neck 
extended and his head a little thrown back, and snuffed 
the air. I could not see the fore sight of the little 
muzzle-loader, but luck attended the aim, for the 
bullet struck high up (a little to the back of) the 
shoulder ; and, shot through the spine, the largest wapiti 
stag that I had ever killed fell stone-dead in his 
tracks. 

It was early in the season, and his hide was in 
first-rate condition, a rich glossy brown on the sides 
and jet black along the back and on the legs; so Jack 
and I turned to, cut off his head and skinned him; 
and, by the time we had done that and had packed 
the head and hide into camp, it was pitch dark, when 
we were ready for supper and blankets. 

That night the carcasses were visited by two grizzly 
bears. We could hear them smashing bushes, clawing 
up earth, and, to use the vernacular, "playing hell 
generally." Every succeeding night they came, some- 



152 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

times as many as four of them together, generally ar- 
riving after dark and leaving before light. 

It was impossible to get a chance at them at night, 
for there was no moon, and the sky was invariably 
cloudy and overcast; and during the day they stowed 
themselves away among the crags, defying detection. 
We were very unlucky with them indeed, for though 
bears were plentiful in the valley, and the members of 
our party had interviews with them, we got only one, 
a middling-sized beast, weighing about 800 pounds. 
Had we been provided with a dog to track them, we 
should have obtained many more. 

These bears behaved in a very singular manner. 
They scarcely ate any of the flesh, but took the greatest 
pains to prevent any other creature getting at it. I 
had hung a hind-quarter of one of the does on a branch, 
well out of reach, as I supposed, and had left the skin 
on the ground. To my great astonishment, on going 
to look for it in the morning, I found the meat had been 
thrown down by a bear, carried about 300 yards and 
deposited under a tree. The brute had then returned, 
taken the skin, spread it carefully over the flesh, scraped 
up earth over the edges, patted it all down hard and 
smooth, and departed without eating a morsel. All 
the carcasses were treated in the same way, the joints 
being pulled asunder and buried under heaps of earth, 
sticks, and stones. The beasts must have worked very 
hard, for the ground was all torn up and trampled 
by them, and stank horribly of bear. They did not 
appear to mind the proximity of camp in the least, or 
to take any notice of us or our tracks. A grizzly is 
an independent kind of beast, and has a good deal 
of don't-care-a-damnativeness about him. Except in 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 153 

spring, when hunger drives him to travel a good deal, 
he is very shy, secluded in his habits, and hard to find ; 
very surly and ill-tempered when he is found, exceed- 
ingly tenacious of life, and most savage when wounded 
or attacked. Few hunters care to go after the grizzly, 
the usual answer being, "No, thank you; not any for 
me. I guess I ain't lost no bears"; thereby implying 
that the speaker does not want to find any. 

One day, while camped in the same place, Jack came 
in quite early, looking rather flustered, sat down, filled 
his pipe, and said, " — ! I have seen the biggest bear 
in the world. — me if he didn't scare me properly. 
Give me a drink and I'll tell you." He then pro- 
ceeded: — "I started out to try and strike some of 
those white- tail we saw (if you remember) coming up, 
for I am getting pretty tired of elk meat; — ain't you? 
Well, the patch of timber is quite small there, and 
beyond it is nothing but rocks. So when I found 
there was no fresh sign in the wood I took the back 
track for camp. When I got near where the first 
elk was killed I saw something moving, and dropped 
behind a tree. There, within sixty yards of me, was 
a grizzly as big as all outside. By — , he was a tearer, 
I tell you. Well, I had been walking fast and was 
a little shaky, so I lay still for some time to get quiet, 
and watched that bear, and I'll be dog-goned if ever 
I saw such a comical devil in my life. He was as 
lively as a cow's tail in fly time, jumping round the 
carcass, covering it with mud, and plastering and 
patting it down with his feet, grumbling to himself 
all the time, as if he thought it a burning shame that 
elk did not cover themselves up when they died. 
When he had got it all fixed to his satisfaction, he 



154 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

would move off towards the cliff, and immediately 
two or three whisky- jacks, 1 that had been perched on 
the trees looking on, would drop down on the carcass 
and begin picking and fluttering about. Before he 
had gone far the old bear would look round, and, 
seeing them interfering with his work, would get real 
mad, and come lumbering back in a hell of a rage, 
drive off the birds, and pile up some more earth and 
mud. This sort of game went on for some time. 
Finally I got a fair broadside shot, and, taking a 
steady sight, I fired. You should have heard the yell 
he gave; it made me feel sort of kind of queer, I tell 
you. I never heard any beast roar like it before, and 
hope I never may again; it was the most awful noise 
you can imagine. He spun round at the shot, sat up 
on his haunches, tore the earth up, and flung it about, 
boxed the trees with his hands, making the bark fly 
again, looking for what hurt him, and at last, having 
vented his rage a little and seeing nothing, turned and 
skinned out for the rocks, as if the devil kicked him. 
No, Sir! You bet your life he didn't see me. I lay 
on the grass as flat as a flap-jack until he was out of 
sight. Well, all right; laugh if you like, but wait till 
you see one, and then you'll find out how you feel. / 
don't want to have any more bear-hunting alone, any- 
how. It's all well enough with the black bears down 
south; I don't mind them; but I ain't a going to fool 
round alone among these grizzlies, I tell you. Why, 
with one blow of the paw they would rip a man and 
scatter him all over the place; you just look at the 

1 Whisky-jack, or Camp-robber; a very important species 
of magpie. 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 155 

marks of his claws on the trees, and the furrows he 
has torn in the hard ground." 

We went to survey the scene of action, and there, 
sure enough, were the marks of the bear's claws on the 
trees and on the ground, marks most unpleasant and 
edifying to behold. We followed that bear for a 
whole long day, up the mountain side, trailing him 
very quickly when we got to the snow on the top. 
After crossing the plateau to the next valley, and 
descending that for some distance, we turned back, 
and at last arrived at a great mass of fallen cliffs and 
rocks, close to where Jack had shot him, and there 
of course we lost him: but he was killed some days 
afterwards at the very same carcass where Jack had 
wounded him. Jack had fired low, and beyond cutting 
a deep score in the skin and flesh tlie bullet had done 
no damage. 

Dr. Kingsley also had a private audience. He was 
out one day armed with a little Ballard rifle looking 
for deer, when he espied a grizzly, "as big as a bull," 
coming towards him. The doctor walked on, and the 
grizzly walked on ; and as the latter did not appear to 
"scare worth a cent," or to have the smallest intention 
of giving way, the former, concluding that his 
gymnastic acquirements might not be equal to swarm- 
ing up a tree with a bear close in pursuit, adopted a 
more prudent course. He determined to climb first 
and shoot after. Accordingly, he ensconced himself 
in a comfortable fork of a tree, under which the bear 
should pass, and waited chuckling to himself at the 
prospect of the nice, safe and easy shot he was about 
to have: but Bruin, evidently thinking that that was 



156 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

taking a mean advantage of him, would not play 
any more, but went off in another direction, and 
Kingsley, coming down disconsolate, returned to 
camp in the condition of Artemus Ward's poor 
Indian, who, "though clothed before, yet left his bear 
behind." 

Campbell too had an adventure; which, as I am on 
the subject of bears, I may as well mention, though it 
did not occur in the same place. Lying out one fine 
day by a little pond, not many miles from Fort Bridger, 
with a small muzzle-loader of mine, waiting for deer, 
he hears a great pounding and crashing among the 
trees, when out walks a bear not five yards from him. 
With more pluck than prudence Campbell fired at 
him, striking him in the shoulder. The bear gave a 
hideous yell, and sat up on his haunches looking for 
his assailant; upon which Campbell slapped the other 
barrel into his chest, and, jumping up, ran for his life, 
and the bear after him. Fortunately for the man, he 
was provided with a pair of very long Scotch legs, of 
which he made great use, and the bear, sickened by two 
mortal wounds, and not feeling up to a vigorous pur- 
suit, made only two or three jumps after him, or 
there would have been one of the party wiped out. As 
it was, he fled without looking back for 200 yards, and 
then, running up the sloping trunk of a fallen tree, 
ventured to throw a glance over his shoulder, when to 
his great relief he saw the beast making off. He had 
had sufficient bear-hunting for one day, however, and 
did not pursue. By the time he got back to camp it 
was too late to do anything; but the next day we all 
went out to look for Bruin. 

We had some difficulty in finding the pond, for 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 157 

Campbeirs mind was so full of bear on the preceding 
evening that he had not very accurately noticed the ap- 
pearance of the woods. So we all separated and 
hunted about for it, and finally Jack, Campbell, and I 
got together at the right pond. We saw the impres- 
sion in the grass where the man had been lying and 
the marks that the beast had left where he made his 
spring, and had no difficulty in following the trail, for 
the ground was literally soaked with blood pouring 
from both wounds. It was evident by the color of 
the blood and by other signs that the poor beast was 
mortally wounded, and we followed in high hopes. 
We had not gone far before we noticed that the bear 
had become so weak as to be obliged to crawl under, 
instead of climbing over, the fallen trunks; and we 
expected to come across him, savage and desperate, at 
any moment. After a mile or two the trail led into 
a little swamp, and as we could not find any tracks 
going out it appeared evident that he had remained 
in there. 

We were all most civil to each other. Such was 
our modesty that no one seerned anxious to put him- 
self prominently forward, to claim the post of honor; 
and this diffidence continued until Jack, breaking the 
ice of restraint, volunteered for the forlorn hope, and 
taking off his coat, and leaving behind him all weighty 
articles except his gun, divesting himself, in short, 
of everything that could interfere with quick move- 
ment, cautiously entered the swamp. Highlander and 
I stationed ourselves on a slight eminence, from which 
we could see well into the willow-bushes, ready to 
warn Jack of the smallest sign of danger and to turn 
the bear. Lord! what a state of anxiety (I don't like 



158 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

to say funk) I was in. My mouth was just as dry 
as a lime-burner's breeches; and my eyes ached with 
peering into the long grass and brush, expecting every 
moment to see the great brute bounce out. However, 
we drew the cover blank, and, after carefully re-ex- 
amining the swamp, discovered the trail leaving it on 
the other side. The bear, who had probably stayed 
in the water several hours, had completely stanched 
his wounds with mud. There were no longer any 
bloodstains to guide us, and it was with much diffi- 
culty that we could distinguish his tracks on the hard 
ground. It is very tedious work puzzling out a blind 
trail. But Jack, with his nose almost on the ground, 
kept deciphering it step by step, while Campbell and 
I made casts ahead, and occasionally hit it off some 
distance in advance, where his feet had pressed upon 
some softer patch of earth, or where he had trodden 
upon sand or among leaves; and by this means we got 
along tolerably fast. 

After a while blood stains became frequent again; 
exercise had caused his wounds to break out afresh, 
and with renewed hopes we rapidly pursued the 
quarry. Another two or three miles passed, and by 
the signs we judged that we must be very close to him. 
"Say!" whispers Jack; "go slow now, he is right here 
somewhere; he has only just managed to drag himself 
over this trunk. See there! how he has reeled against 
that tree; look how wide his footmarks are! Why 
he has almost fallen here, and by Jove! see, there he 
has fallen altogether. Look out, boys! First thing, 
you know, he will be on the top of us; never you 
mind the trail. I'll take care of that: you just keep 
your heads low and your eyes skinned, and look well 



WAPITI AND GRIZZLIES 159 

under the bushes, and, when you do see him, give him 
fire." 

We went very cautiously now, expecting every 
moment to put him up or find him dead ; but we were 
disappointed. After falling three or four times in fifty 
yards, the bear, unable to walk any further, had 
dragged himself through the long grass into a little 
run. There he had rolled in the clay and water until 
he succeeded for the second time in stopping the flow 
of blood. When we reached the spot the mud was 
just barely commencing to settle in the water; he 
could not have left more than a few minutes, and we 
listened, expecting to hear him forcing his way through 
the brush. In all probability we had ourselves scared 
him out of the place, and we felt satisfied that we 
were bound to come up with him before long. 

But alas and alas for all our hopes and all our 
trouble! The watercourse led into a large swamp, 
several miles long and half a mile broad, made up of 
old beaver dams, full of deep holes and stagnant 
streams, and thickly covered with a tangled and al- 
most impenetrable cover of willow and alder. There 
we lost our bear, and there we left him. A heavy 
shower came on and obliterated all trace and trail, and 
in the face of a blinding, pelting, pitiless rain we were 
forced to give up the search and make the best of 
our way home. And a first-rate landfall we made, 
considering that we had neither sun nor compass to 
guide us, and had to guess a straight course through 
the same woods that we had so crookedly traversed 
in the morning while following the devious windings 
of the trail. What an awful ducking we did get! I 
had on new buckskin trousers, too, and what misery 



160 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

those garments caused me! They stretched about 
twelve inches at least, got under my feet and threw 
me down, and hampered my legs with their cold, 
clammy stickiness to such an extent that I could 
scarcely walk. We were all thoroughly drenched, 
and did not take long to change, in spite of the guide, 
Old Man Smith, asking us whether we wanted to 
catch our deaths of cold, shifting our wet things in 
that way. He stood, smoking like a volcano, by the 
fire that evening till he was well warmed though still 
wet; then rolling himself up in his dripping blanket, 
he slept out in the rain under a tree, and the next 
morning arose from his lair steaming, — looking like 
Venus in dirty buckskin breeches emerging from a hot 
bath. 



CHAPTER VI 

VICISSITUDES 

THE next day we all went back again to the 
scene of action, riding through and through the 
swamp on our horses, but could see nothing of 
the dead beast, for dead by that time he must have 
been. We were much vexed, for the bear, to judge 
by his footprints, must have been an enormous animal 
and it was just the time of year when their fur is in 
best condition. But to return to our tents. On the 
morning succeeding that of the big wapiti stag, we 
all "slept in," the previous day having been an ex- 
hausting one, and we, moreover, not having gone to 
bed — if a blanket on the ground can be dignified with 
such a name — till very late. We had barely got our 
eyes and ears open before we heard wapiti roaring up 
the valley not far from camp, and Boteler and I im- 
mediately started in pursuit, hoping to overtake them 
on the low grounds. Our laziness proved adverse to 
sport. If we had been out only an hour earlier, we 
should have experienced no difficulty in getting up to 
them in the gray dawn; but by the time we reached 
the place where they had been feeding they had taken 
to the mountains in search of a secluded spot to lie 
down in, leaving a broad trail, showing by the numer- 
ous tracks that a large band had passed by. We fol- 

161 



162 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

lowed at our best pace, but the ground was very 
steep, and the deer were moving so fast that it was 
some time before we could get near them. At last 
we came in view of the herd — some forty or fifty 
hinds and four stags. They had stopped for the 
moment, and were feeding when we first caught sight 
of them ; but, before we could approach, the stags had 
moved the hinds on again, and were driving them up 
the mountain at a pace that we could not keep up 
with. 

Walking, or trying to run fast up an extremely 
steep hillside, when the ground is rendered wet and 
slippery by melting snow, may be a very fine exercise, 
but, at an altitude of 8,000 feet or so, certainly it is 
awfully trying upon the muscles and lungs. Boteler 
no doubt, if alone, would soon have overtaken the game, 
he being very strong, hardy, and in first-rate condi- 
tion; but I, soft as I was, and unaccustomed as yet to 
mountain walking, made rather a poor hand of it. 
However, I did my best, and ran till I was seasick. 
The work — to my great joy — was telling heavily upon 
Boteler also, for his nose began to bleed violently; and 
we would both willingly have given up the chase had 
not the sight of an unusually fine herd encouraged us 
to proceed. 

Every now and then, when open spaces favored the 
view, we could see the whole band straggling up the 
mountain before us. The hinds would walk on fast 
for awhile, then, stopping to snatch a mouthful of 
grass, would wander off on either side. They even 
showed a disposition to loiter or stop altogether, which 
was not encouraged by the stags, who, roaring at inter- 
vals of ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, kept be- 



VICISSITUDES 163 

hind on the flanks of the herd and drove them steadily 
onward. At last they all stopped again, and we 
thought we might make a stalk upon them; but to 
our great annoyance an old stag lay down in a little 
coulee or run of water on a piece of ground so exposed 
that we could by no means circumvent him. There 
he lay, the brute! long after the others had gone on, 
rolling himself about in the water, every now and 
then stretching out his neck and throwing his head up 
with a hoarse bellow. At last he got up and followed 
the band, and we, as soon as he was out of sight, re- 
sumed the pursuit. The deer had got a long way 
ahead by this time; but after about an hour's very 
hard work, for the snow was getting deeper and 
deeper as we ascended, and our progress was propor- 
tionately slow and laborious, we came upon them in 
some timber, which gave us the long-wished-for op- 
portunity of crawling up to within about 150 yards. 
After infinite labor, much shifting of position, and 
crawling and groveling in the snow, we got a pretty 
fair shot at the master-stag. We both fired, but were 
so shaken by our exertion that we missed him clean. 
However, he took no notice whatever, beyond looking 
round inquiringly, and we had time to load again and 
fire: this time more successfully, for he wheeled at 
the shot, and after running about 200 yards pitched 
on his head down a slope into a deep drift, and lay 
there doubled up in the snow. We were not sorry 
that the chase was ended. When we got up with our 
knives ready to perform the necessary operations, our 
disappointment was keen to find that we had greatly 
overrated the size of his head. The peculiar condi- 
tion of the atmosphere had deceived us, and we found, 



164 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

to our disgust, that the antlers which had appeared 
huge in the morning mist, and as viewed from a dis- 
tance against the white background of the snow, 
dwindled and diminished most scandalously on close in- 
spection, becoming smaller and smaller as we ap- 
proached. They proved on examination to be much 
inferior to those of the stag we had killed on the pre- 
ceding day. However, it was by no means a bad 
head, so we cut it off, stuck it up in a conspicuous 
place, and left it "to be called for another time." 

During the last two days the weather had turned 
very coarse and disagreeable ; snow fell in considerable 
quantities, and melted almost immediately everywhere 
except on the tops. It rained, too, very heavily at 
times, and our light mosquito bars afforded but a poor 
shelter from the elements. The bottom of the valley 
was completely flooded; streams of muddy water de- 
scended the hills from all sides; the ground was wet 
and sloppy, and, when it was neither raining nor snow- 
ing, a thick fog alternating with Scotch mist and 1 
drizzle enveloped all the lower portions of the vale. 
The outlook was very far from cheerful, and our 
eyes turned somewhat wistfully towards the comforts 
of the permanent camp below. But we had to wait 
somewhere for Wynne; game seemed tolerably abun- 
dant in the valley ; and, hoping constantly for a change 
of weather, we, on the next day, moved our little 
camp right up the head of it to try for mountain 
sheep. We made a pretty good camp, among the 
stunted and rapidly expiring fragments of the forest; 
but the damp cold was very trying, much more dis- 
agreeable than the dry severe cold of winter. 

That same afternoon Boteler and I ascended the 



VICISSITUDES 165 

mountains forming the rim of the basin, which, as I 
have previously stated, encircles the upper end of the 
valley, and after a very fatiguing tramp discovered a 
band of sheep feeding in a little open glade about 
half way down the other side of the ridge. We made 
a scientific stalk upon the only two good-sized rams 
among the band, but we were in too great a hurry and 
made a mess of it. The ewes got our wind or heard 
us — I maintain that it was entirely Boteler's fault — and 
before we could say "knife," or much more get a shot, 
the whole herd were scampering up the mountains at 
a pace marvelous to see. How they did make the 
stones rattle down as they bounded from crag to crag! 
They would gallop for four or five hundred yards, 
then suddenly stop on some projecting point to look 
back, and off again as hard as they could go. 

In about ten minutes they gained the summit, an 
undertaking that took us two hours' hard walking to 
accomplish. There they all gathered together and 
stood still for several minutes, clear against the sky 
line (the big horns of the rams appearing most pro- 
vokingly large), looking back to see what had dis- 
turbed them; and then having made up their minds 
that, as far as we were concerned, "distance lent 
enchantment to the view," they fell into single file, 
galloped for several miles along the crest, and finally 
disappeared over the other side. So Boteler and I, 
our hearts full of mutual recriminations, but with no 
other burden, had to climb up, over, and down the 
ridge, and struggle back to the camp through the melt- 
ing snow and the greasy, slippery, treacherous clay. 
The walking was both unpleasant and dangerous. 

AH day long the sky had been very lowering, bend- 



166 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

ing as it were under the weight of vapor, and about 
sunset the accumulated masses of cloud sank down, 
enveloped all the hillside, and broke. During the 
night about twelve inches of snow fell. 

The following morning Jack, Boteler, and I went 
out to try our luck, and speedily found some sheep 
feeding on the ends of the long dry tufts of grass that 
protruded through the snow. They were all ewes, 
but, as we wanted fresh meat very badly, we were not 
proud, and determined to try and get one of them. 
It was necessary to make a very long round to get 
down wind of them, and unfortunately, while doing 
so, we exposed ourselves to the view of a magnificent 
band of old rams fourteen in number, some of them 
carrying splendid heads. It was unlucky; but we 
had no just cause to blame ourselves. We could not 
see the rams from where we started, because, like the 
Spanish fleet, they were not in sight; there was little 
shelter to be got; we were obliged to make a long 
detour through the snow, and against that white back- 
ground our bodies appeared very black and distinct. 
But it was nevertheless most annoying to see our sup- 
per tearing up the hillside, and our prospective tro- 
phies "putting out" at their best pace for the most 
inaccessible part of the mountains. 

The sheep ran in two bands until about midway up 
the hillside, and then all joining together proceeded 
to walk so leisurely that we thought it worth while to 
pursue them, particularly as they were going straight 
up wind. Patiently we followed their trail all day 
over the most infernal ground. The mountain was 
very steep, and naturally quite bad enough; but on 
this occasion it was rendered unusually dangerous by 



VICISSITUDES 167 

the loose wet snow which covered the smooth surfaces 
of rock, and filled up all the interstices between the 
broken fragments of cliff, hiding the untrustworthy- 
places, deceiving the foot and eye, glossing over little 
chasms, giving a false appearance of stability to totter- 
ing stones, and converting a difficult but feasible hill- 
side into a most dangerous and well-nigh impracticable 
slope. 

We crawled along one behind the other, forming 
when necessary a chain with our guns, the leading man 
taking every advantage of the stunted pines and jutting 
crags of rock, and making each foothold good and 
secure before venturing on another. If he faltered or 
slipped, the next man held him up — very little support 
is sufficient to restore the balance — and he tried again 
until he got his foot on to some little ledge, or jammed 
into some crevice that would support his weight, and 
the others then followed, treading carefully in his 
footsteps. Thus we toiled on painfully and slowly, 
our feet (which were protected only by wet and flabby 
moccasins) pinched and sore with being jammed in 
between loose stones; our bones aching from repeated 
falls ; wet to the skin with the thick drizzle, half rain 
and half snow; until tired and in very bad temper 
we were obliged to abandon the pursuit, and de- 
scending to the creek followed it up to camp. 

I awoke tolerably refreshed, though very stiff and 
sore about the legs, and, by way of variety, went out all 
by myself, and hunted over and across the Divide, and 
down the plain on the other side nearly up to the West 
Madison River. It was a fine day for a wonder, and 
the sun, bright and warm, shone beautifully through 
the dripping foliage, diffusing a most grateful glow 



168 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

through my aching limbs, and reviving my drooping 
spirits. The country about there is very pretty, and 
at some seasons of the year must be full of game, for 
the little prairies and woodland glades, the slopes of 
the foot-hills, and the bare ridges jutting out from 
the mountains like promontories into a sea of forest, 
were covered and intersected in all directions with the 
paths and trails of mountain buffalo, wapiti, and deer. 
The signs of bear also were very numerous. 

Near the foot of the mountains are two picturesque 
little lakes; and several streams — confluents of the 
West Madison — wander sparkling in the sunshine 
through meadows and parks dotted with stately spruce 
and firs, or plunge into the dark recesses of the forest. 
All around rose in endless billows a great surging mass 
of peaks — unnamed, unknown, untrodden — tiresome 
in their lack of distinctive character, all very similar 
in general appearance and shape, with the exception of 
one very remarkable flat-topped mountain in the dis- 
tance which reared itself above the general level of 
the range. It is said to be quite inaccessible, and this 
allegation seems likely to be true, for the side exposed 
to my view was entirely surrounded by a sheer wall 
of cliff. 

But, though pretty scenery and fine weather partially 
repaid me for my exertions, I was disappointed at the 
results of my walk; for, as is very often the case, 
though indications were abundant, they were all old, 
and not a single living thing did I see all day long. 
I smelt a band of sheep, it is true, so distinctly that 
they could not have left the ground very long; but 
their trail led over some very rocky ground, across 



VICISSITUDES 169 

which it was impossible to follow it; and, though I 
searched very diligently, I failed to find the quarry. 

Bear signs were so very abundant, and the tracks 
of one or two animals were so fresh, that I looked 
forward with a good deal of anxiety and some trepi- 
dation to an interview with Bruin; but it was not to 
be, and — as usual — I returned home with a whole 
skin, empty hands, a loaded rifle, and a clean knife. 

I became so wearied and discontented with this con- 
tinual bad luck that at our council fire that night I for- 
mally abdicated all right to command. It was evident 
that I had made bad medicine, and that no good for- 
tune would attend my efforts; so I handed full control 
over to Jack, and under his leadership we returned 
next day to our first camp; and in the evening, acting 
on his suggestion, I rode on to our permanent camp 
below, and from there into Boteler's Ranch, to see if 
there were any letters, and to ask for news of Wynne. 

As I rode I had the pleasure of witnessing some very 
peculiar, thoroughly local, and quite indescribable 
effects of color. 

The day cleared suddenly for a short time just about 
sundown, and the gorgeous flaunting streamers of 
bright yellow and red that were suddenly shot out 
across a lurid sky were most wonderful to behold. If 
the vivid colors were transferred to canvas with a 
quarter of their real brilliancy, the eye would be dis- 
tressed by the representation, and the artist accused of 
gross exaggeration and of straining after outrageous 
effects ; but the critic would be mistaken, the fact being 
that nothing but actual eye-proof can reconcile one to 
the belief that such effects could be produced at all, 



170 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

much less produced with harmony, even by Nature 
herself. 

These stormy American sunsets are startling, bar- 
baric, even savage in their brilliancy of tone, in their 
profusion of color, in their great streaks of red and 
broad flashes of yellow fire; startling, but never repul- 
sive to the senses or painful to the eye. For a time 
the light shone most brilliantly all over the western 
hemisphere, breaking through a confused mass of daz- 
zling purple-edged clouds massed against a glowing, 
burnished copper sky, darting out bright arrows 
through the rifts and rents, and striking full upon the 
mountain tops. But not long did this glorious efful- 
gence last. The soul of the evening soon passed away ; 
as the sun sank the colors fled; and the now snow- 
white mass of the Yellowstone range filling the center 
of the valley, down which I looked as through a tube, 
assumed a most peculiar aspect, caused by the reflec- 
tion of the cloud tints on the snow and the reflection 
of the snow color on the sky. The mountains became 
of a ghastly, livid, greenish color ; and, as the faint rose 
light paled, faded slowly upwards and vanished, it 
really looked as though the life were ebbing away, and 
the dull gray death-hue spreading over the face of a 
dying man. 

I found that Campbell had killed a couple of ante- 
lopes, and he would no doubt have killed many more, 
but that Maxwell, the black cook, was so fearful of 
bears and Indians that he would not on any condition 
stay in camp alone; and consequently, as the camp 
could not be left to take care of itself, Campbell was 
obliged to remain with him. Somebody at Denver 
had persuaded Maxwell that Indians had a special 



VICISSITUDES 171 

aversion to colored gentlemen, and he firmly believed 
that there was not a red man in America but would 
travel half across the continent to get his woolly scalp. 
If there were no Indians about he was in dread of 
bears, and if there were no bears he made shift to be 
terrified at snakes. The state of his nervous system 
was a great nuisance to us, for there was no use in tell- 
ing him that he must stay in camp. He simply would 
not do it, but would "fork his pony," and make for the 
nearest settlement or shanty if left to himself. 

No intelligence of any kind awaited me at Boteler's, 
and early next morning I returned to our camp up the 
valley. 

That night our animals stampeded, and came gallop- 
ing by the tents, tails out, picket-ropes flying, making 
a tremendous clatter. We never found out what 
started them, though we examined the ground carefully 
for signs of Indians or other wild beasts. Probably 
the disturbing cause was a mountain lion, or puma, as 
it should more properly be called. It gave us a long 
day's work to find them again, for instead of going 
down the valley towards home, as any sensible beasts 
would have done, they turned straight up the moun- 
tains and made a short cut for Bozeman. Late the 
next evening Boteler discovered them miles away in 
the direction of that town. One of the mules we did 
not get for four days, and we suffered much anxiety 
on his account, for it sometimes happens that animals 
stampeding get hung up by their picket-ropes twining 
and knotting round trees, or the stake to which the 
rope is attached gets jammed in some crevice of a rock, 
and the unfortunate beast, if he has gone over hard 
ground and left no trail, perishes miserably by starva- 



172 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

tion. I need scarcely say that the mule we lost was 
the best of the lot, and we were much afraid that such 
had been his fate; but, to our no small satisfaction, he 
turned up eventually in good condition at Boteler's 
Ranch. 

We spent two more very uncomfortable days in the 
valley — wet, cold, and badly off for food. One of the 
party became quite ill and unable to work from con- 
stant cold and exposure; and indeed the weather was 
too coarse and the state of the ground too treacherous 
and dangerous to allow of any of us hunting with com- 
fort, safety, or even a moderate chance of success. 

The last evening was an exceptionally stormy one. 
The rain poured down in torrents; the wind blew 
fiercely; and it was with difficulty that we could keep 
our huge camp-fire burning. Great roots of fir trees, 
and knots and logs of pitch pine we heaped on, and 
made at last a regular bonfire of it ; but it was of little 
service to us, for the gusts of wind eddying round the 
tree-stems drove the smoke and ashes in our faces and 
forced us to fall back as we crowded round the flame 
in a vain attempt to keep ourselves warm. There are 
some people in the world who always get the smoke in 
their faces, even in fine weather, on whichever side of 
the fire they sit, and whichever way the wind blows. 
Others, again, seem to have made some compact or 
arrangement with the Spirit of the Flame, for when 
they sit down to toast themselves the smoke always 
curls gracefully in the opposite direction, or ascends 
straight up to heaven. It is said that, in consequence 
of the murder of Thomas a Becket, "the Traceys have 
always the wind in their faces" ; and perhaps it is as a 
punishment for some former sins or crimes, that the 



VICISSITUDES 173 

smoke pursues some of us with such diabolical persis- 
tence. But on this occasion we were all in the same 
fix ; equal sinners we appeared to be ; and if we wished 
to be warm we were obliged to submit to being fumi- 
gated and scorched also. 

The Indians say that white men are fools, and don't 
know how to keep themselves warm — building such 
fires that they cannot get near them. The first asser- 
tion undoubtedly is frequently true ; and there is much 
sense, I allow, in the whole remark. Your red man 
kindles a few sticks, and crouches over them, covering 
the little flame with his blanket, and by that means 
conveys to himself, I daresay, more caloric than the 
white man can do by alternately scorching and freez- 
ing before the shifting, roaring flame of a fire large 
enough to roast an elephant. Yet there is comfort in 
the appearance of a big bright flame, and much may be 
said for both methods. On the evening in question, 
however, neither big fire nor little fire, neither white 
man's plan or red man's plan, would have availed to 
keep us shivering wretches warm. I shall not very 
quickly forget that afternoon and night. How snug 
the recollection of it makes me by contrast feel as I 
pile a fresh log on the fire at home, stretch out my 
slippered feet in post-prandial ease, warm my hands 
and toast my shins at the cheerful blaze, and convey 
hot liquid comfort to the inner man, or as I turn round 
in bed, comfortable, warm and cosy, and listen half 
asleep — only just awake enough to realize how com- 
fortable one is — to the driving of the rain and wind, 
and thank my stars that I am not out in it ! Kingsley, 
Jack, and I had been wandering disconsolately about 
the sloppy valley all day long, sitting down violently 



174 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

and unexpectedly on the slippery wet grass, our feet 
flying from under us on the smooth rounded surfaces 
of the fallen tree-trunks, dislocating our bones and our 
tempers by many and violent falls. About an hour 
before dark, and about 100 yards from camp, we parted 
from Kingsley, who persevered in the pursuit of game 
with a persistency worthy of better results, and re- 
turned to our fire. A thick fog was rising from the in- 
undated marshy borders of the creek, and, gradually 
rolling up the valley, filled it with dense white vapor, 
rendering obscure and indistinct all our well-known 
landmarks, such as isolated clumps, solitary trees, bare 
cliffs, or jutting headlands.. We found camp easily 
enough, but the Doctor, who had wandered on some 
distance, came very near being lost. 

When Jack and I got in we found camp in a sorry 
plight, everything soaked through — tents, bedding, and 
all, and our prospects for the night looked anything but 
cheerful; but by extending the hide of the wapiti stag 
between four trees, and hauling it out taut with ropes, 
we managed to make a tolerable shelter; and, taking 
from out of our cache some dry birch bark and splinters 
of fat pine, we lit a huge fire, and sat down to make 
some tea for supper. About dusk we heard a shot, 
and visions of fresh venison steaks floated before our 
eyes. About half an hour passed, but no venison and 
no Kingsley appeared, and then we heard another shot, 
and two or three minutes afterwards yet another. 

By this time it was getting quite dark, and we were 
puzzled to know what Kingsley could be firing at — 
unless, indeed, he was treed by a bear. After a short 
interval we heard the sound of his rifle again, evidently 
further off, and then it suddenly occurred to us that 



VICISSITUDES 175 

he was lost and making signals. We fired our rifles, 
and whooped, and yelled, and shouted, but all to no 
purpose. The sound of his rifle became fainter and 
fainter ; — he was going in the wrong direction. 

To be left out on such a night might cost a man his 
life, for it would have been hard for even an old ex- 
perienced mountain man to have found material dry 
enough to make a fire ; so Jack and Boteler started out 
into the blackness of the night and the thick fog to 
look for him, leaving me behind to heap logs on the 
fire, and occasionally emit a dismal yell to keep them 
acquainted with the whereabouts of camp. 

For some time I could hear the responsive shouts of 
the searchers, but after awhile they ceased, and nothing 
broke the horrid silence except the noises of the night 
and of the storm. 

The heavy raindrops pattered incessantly on the elk- 
hide; the water trickled and splashed, and gurgled 
down the hillside in a thousand muddy rills and minia- 
ture cascades. The night was very dark, but not so 
black but that I could dimly see white ghost-like shred9 
of vapor and great indistinct rolling masses of fog 
driving up the valley in the gale. The wind rumbled 
in the caverns of the cliffs, shrieked and whistled 
shrilly among the dead pine trees, and fiercely shook 
the frail shelter overhead, dashing the raindrops in 
my face. Every now and then the fire would burn 
up bright, casting a fitful gleam out into the damp 
darkness, and lighting up the bare jaws and white 
skulls of the two elk-heads, which seemed to grin de- 
risively at me out of the gloom; and then, quenched 
by the hissing rain, it would sink down into a dull red 
glow. My dog moved uneasily about, now pressing 



176 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

close up against me, shivering with cold and fear, 
nestling up to me for protection, and looking into my 
face for that comfort which I had not in me to give 
him — now starting to his feet, whimpering, and scared 
when some great gust smote the pine tree overhead, 
angrily seized and rattled the elk-hide, and scooping 
up the firebrands tossed them in the air. The tall firs 
bowed like bulrushes before the storm, swaying to and 
fro, bending their lofty heads like bows and flinging 
them up again erect, smiting their great boughs to- 
gether in agony, groaning and complaining, yet fiercely 
fighting with the tempest. At intervals, when the gale 
paused for a moment as it were to gather strength, its 
shrill shrieking subdued to a dismal groan, there was 
occasionally heard with startling distinctness, through 
the continuous distant din and clamor of the night, a 
long, painfully-rending cr-r-r-rash, followed by a dull 
heavy thud, notifying the fall of some monarch of the 
woods, and making my heart quake within me as I 
uneasily glanced at the two tall hemlocks overhead 
that wrathfully ground their trunks together, and 
whose creaking limbs were wrestling manfully with 
the storm. Strange and indistinct noises would come 
up from the vale: rocks became detached, and thun- 
dered down the far-off crags; a sudden burst of wind 
would bear upon me the roar of the torrent below with 
such clearness that it sounded as though it were close 
at hand. It was an awful night, in the strictest sense 
of the word. The Demon of the Tempest was abroad 
in his anger, yelling down the valley, dashing out the 
water-floods with his hands, laying waste the forest, 
and filling with dread the hearts of man and beast and 
every living thing. 



VICISSITUDES 177 

There was not a star or a gleam of moonlight. It 
was very gruesome sitting there all alone, and I began 
to feel, like David, "horribly afraid." I do not 
know how long I was alone ; probably it was only 
for a short time — a couple of hours or so, at most — 
but the minutes were as hours to me. Most dismal 
was my condition; and I could not even resort to the 
Dutch expedient for importing courage, to supply 
my natural allowance of that quality which had 
quickly oozed out of my cold finger-tips. I had 
poured into a tin pannikin the last drain of whisky 
from the keg, and had placed it carefully to settle. 
I knew that Kingsley would really want it, so I could 
not seek consolation in that way. I could not find 
even a piece of dry tobacco wherewith to comfort 
myself; I began to feel very wretched indeed; and it 
was truly a great relief when I heard the shouts of 
the returning party. 

They brought in the lost man pretty well ex- 
hausted, for he had been out a long time exposed to 
the weather, had walked a great distance, and had 
fallen about terribly in the darkness. He had tried 
in vain to make a fire, and was wandering about with- 
out an idea of the direction in which camp lay. He 
was indeed in real need of a stimulant, and when, in 
answer to his inquiring glance at the keg, I said that 
there was half a pannikin full, his face beamed with a 
cheerful smile. But alas! a catastrophe had occurred. 
A gust of wind or a falling branch had over-thrown 
all my arrangements, and when I arose to give him 
the pannikin, behold, it was bottom upwards and 
dry! 1 

1 Doctor Kingsley says "Jack trod in it." — Ed. 



178 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

If it be true that "the effectual fervent prayer of a 
righteous man availeth much/' I suppose that it must 
be equally true that the effectual fervent swear of a 
despairing mortal will penetrate far. If so, I know 
that a responsive echo must have been awakened 
somewhere by the vehemence of the monosyllable 
that greeted this discovery. 

So we had to make the best of matters, and put up 
with hot, strong green tea, which consoled us a little; 
but we spent a very uncomfortable night, sitting by 
the fire as long as we could keep our eyes open — four 
unhappy human beings in their wet shirt-tails and 
damp blankets, trying to dry their socks, underclothes, 
and trousers, and to get a little warmth into their 
chilled limbs. 

The next morning we four unhappy individuals, 
stiff-jointed and rheumatic, blear-eyed, unshaven, 
dirty and unkempt, assembled round the fire, and 
without much discussion arrived at the conclusion 
that this sort of thing was all very well for a picnic 
party, but that a little went a long way, and that we 
had enjoyed quite enough of it. The "Greenwood 
Tree," we thought, sounded nice, but a warm dry tent 
appeared to us to be the right sort of place in a Sep- 
tember storm; and so, soon after daybreak, we packed 
up, left our elk-heads where they were, and moved 
down to permanent camp. 



CHAPTER VII 

THE HOT SPRINGS ON GARDINER'S RIVER 

WE arrived early and lay in camp all day, 
weathering out as best we could the fearful 
storm that still continued. At night one of 
the tents blew down, nearly frightening Tweed into 
fits. Jack and I tried with all the calmness of despera- 
tion to think that the wet clammy folds of the can- 
vas were rather pleasant and warm, but we could not 
keep up the delusion, and had to drag ourselves out, 
and in the face of the wind and rain set up the tent 
again. It is intolerable to have one's tent blown 
down on a drenching night, as I am sure will be al- 
lowed by any one who has had experience of that 
calamity; and it put the finishing touch to our misery. 
But, as often happens, matters began to mend soon 
after they were at their worst. 

Towards morning a few stars began to peep 
through long ragged rifts in the clouds, and the day 
broke finer than it had done for weeks. The dawn 
revealed detached masses of vapor driven in by the 
fierce rays of the attacking sun, like outlying pickets 
of the storm, rolling up the wet shining sides of the 
mountains, and concentrating their forces in ominous 
columns about the higher peaks. As the light grew 
brighter, the leaden sky broke up, showing two or 
three patches of blue; and, as the sun rose higher, the 
179 



180 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

fog melted and, curling up from the low grounds, 
floated round the summits of the range. The clouds, 
losing their torn, tormented appearance, became softer 
and more rounded in outline. Everything betokened 
fair weather; and in somewhat better spirits we broke 
camp, and marched that day to the Mammoth Hot 
Springs on Gardiner's River. . . . 

The accommodation at the Mammoth Hot Springs 
Hotel was in an inverse ratio to the gorgeous des- 
cription contained in the advertisements of the Helena 
and Virginia newspapers. No doubt the neighbor- 
hood of these springs will some day become a fashion- 
able place. At present, being the last outpost of 
civilization, — that is, the last place where whisky is 
sold, — it is merely resorted to by a few invalids from 
Helena and Virginia City, and is principally known 
to fame as a rendezvous of hunters, trappers, and 
idlers, who take the opportunity to loiter about on 
the chance of getting a party to conduct to the 
geysers, hunting a little, and selling meat to a few 
visitors who frequent the place in summer; sending 
the good specimens of heads and skeletons of rare 
beasts to the natural history men in New York and 
the East; and occupying their spare time by making 
little basket-work ornaments and nicknacks, wliich, 
after placing them for some days in the water so that 
they become coated with white silicates, they sell to 
the travelers and invalids as memorials of their trip. 
They are a curious race, these mountain men, hunters, 
trappers, and guides — very good fellows as a rule, 
honest and open-handed, obliging and civil to strangers 
if treated with civility by them. They make what I 
should think must be rather a poor living out of 



SPRINGS ON GARDINER'S RIVER 181 

travelers and pleasure parties, doing a little hunting, 
a little mining, and more prospecting during the 
summer. In the winter they hibernate like bears, for 
there is absolutely nothing for them to do. They 
seek out a sheltered canon or warm valley with a 
southern aspect, and, building a little shanty, pur- 
chase some pork and flour, and lay up till spring 
opens the rivers and allows of gulch mining opera- 
tions being recommenced. If you ask a man in the 
autumn where he is going and what he is going to 
do, ten to one he will tell you that it is getting pretty 
late in the season now, and that it won't be long be- 
fore we have some heavy snow, and he is going 
"down the river or up the canon." 

For a week we lay at the hot springs on Gardiner's 
River, unable to move on account of illness in the 
camp, and waiting for Wynne. The weather was 
beautiful; the storm had entirely subsided, and was 
succeeded by bright, warm, sunny days, softened and 
beautified by the dim autumnal haze. It was very 
aggravating to lose such fine weather for traveling, 
and we chafed impatiently at the enforced delay. 
Some of us went out hunting, and brought in a good 
store of fat antelope; others amused themselves with 
the trout yvhich abound in Gardiner's River and the 
Yellowstone. However, at last, on a Sunday, Wynne 
arrived, with a large and very welcome packet of 
letters from home. We had plenty to do all that 
night reading and answering letters, and on the next 
morning we made a start. 

The trail, after crossing one of the forks of 
Gardiner's River, follows up the main stream, which 
makes near its head a very pretty little fall. The 



182 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

canon is there about 500 yards across at the top, 
and narrows at the bottom to a width of thirty 
or forty yards. The top is densely covered with 
small pines, which also grow on the precipitous 
sides wherever they can find room to strike their 
roots. Flowing out of these pine trees the river 
rushes down a precipitous cliff for about 300 feet, 
leaping over a sheer fall in one place of 100 feet in 
height. The volume of water is small, but the fall 
is full of grace and beauty. In the'sides of the canon 
above the fall occur some interesting and remarkable 
instances of structural basalt, the different outflows 
being divided by intervening bands of clay. The 
columnar forms are very distinctly shown, and the 
strata look at a little distance exactly like ramparts of 
masonry. 

The path — if so vague an indication of former 
travel can be called a path — after winding most 
picturesquely along the sides of the ravine debouches 
into a sort of upland prairie country, composed of 
low, rounded, grass-covered hills, concealing in their 
hollows many still, sedgy, reed-fringed ponds. By 
ascending any of these little hills you will see spread 
out all around a great black mantle of forest rolling 
in successive waves to the horizon, apparently with- 
out limit, save that in the distance the range of the 
Yellowstone and the mountains about the sources of 
the Madison break through its dark uniformity; 
while far away to the south is shadowed the dim out- 
line of the three Tetons. 

In the afternoon we passed quite a patriarchal 
camp, composed of two men with their Indian wives 
and several children; half a dozen powerful savage- 



SPRINGS ON GARDINER'S RIVER 183 

looking dogs and about fifty horses completed the 
party. They had been grazing their stock, hunting 
and trapping, leading a nomad, vagabond, and de- 
licious life — a sort of mixed existence, half hunter, 
half herdsman, and had collected a great pile of deer- 
hides and beaver-skins. They were then on their way 
to settlements to dispose of their peltry, and to get 
stores and provisions; for they, too, were proceeding to 
look for comfortable winter quarters, "down the river 
or up the canon." 

Encountering people in these solitudes is like meet- 
ing a suspicious sail at sea when your country is at 
war, and you are uncertain as to the character, na- 
tionality, intentions, size, and strength of the stranger. 
The latter point is the most important to clear up. 
Man is the most dangerous beast that roams the 
forest, and the first idea that enters the mind on meet- 
ing him or seeing his traces is one of hostility; you 
take it for granted that he is an enemy and to be 
guarded against, until you ascertain that he is a 
friend and can' be trusted. It is therefore advisable 
in such cases to heave-to and reconnoiter, and make 
signals. The number of horses staggered us at first, 
but we soon discovered that the strangers were white, 
and, moreover, that there were only two men in camp ; 
and without more ado we rode in and made friends. 
What a lot of mutually interesting information was 
given and received! We were outward bound and 
had the news, and the latitude and the longitude. 
They were homeward bound, had been wandering 
for months, cut off from all means of communication 
with the outside world, and had but the vaguest 
notion of their position on the globe. 



184 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

But, though ignorant of external matters and what 
was going on in settlements, they had not lost all de- 
sire for information. It seems natural to suppose 
that a man condemned to a long sojourn in the wilds 
would become quite careless of everything but the 
wants and necessities of his daily life. But with 
United Stateans, at any rate, this is not the case. An 
American, although he lives with an Indian woman 
in the forests or on the plains, never quite loses his 
interest in politics and parties; and these two squaw- 
men were very anxious to hear all about electioneer- 
ing matters, and to know whether anything impor- 
tant had taken place on the great question that was 
convulsing their world — that is, the few detached 
settlements in Montana; namely, whether Virginia 
City should continue to be the capital, or whether 
her mantle should be taken from her shoulders and 
transferred to the back of her more prosperous rival, 
Helena. They wanted to know also how far it was 
to Bozeman, and how the place lay by compass. 

These men looked very happy and comfortable. Un- 
questionably the proper way for a man to travel with 
ease and luxury in these deserts is for him to take unto 
himself a helpmate chosen from the native population. 
No amount of art, industry, and study can rival the 
instinct displayed by savages in making themselves 
comfortable, and in utilizing for their own benefit all 
the accidents of Nature. Nobody can choose a camp 
as they can; nobody knows how to make a fire so 
quickly or so well; nobody can so wisely pick a shady, 
cool place in summer heat, or choose one sheltered from 
wind and storms in winter. With an Indian wife to 
look after his bodily comforts, a man may devote him- 



SPRINGS ON GARDINER'S RIVER 185 

self to hunting, fishing, or trapping without a thought 
or care. He may make his mind quite easy about all 
household matters. His camp will be well arranged, 
the tent-pegs driven securely home, the stock watered, 
picketed, and properly cared for, a good supper cooked, 
his bed spread out, and everything made comfortable; 
his clothes and hunting-gear looked after, the buttons 
sewn on his shirt — if he has got any shirt or any 
buttons; and all the little trivial incidents of life which, 
if neglected, wear out one's existence, he will find care- 
fully attended to by a willing and affectionate slave. 

They had a lot to tell us also about their travels and 
adventures, about the wood and water supply, and the 
abundance or deficiency of game. So we sat down on 
bales of beaver-skins and retailed all the civilized intelli- 
gence we could think of; and the women came and 
brought us embers for our pipes, and spread out robes 
for us and made us at home ; and the little fat, chubby 
children, wild and shy as young wolves, peered at us 
from behind the tent out of their round, black, beady 
eyes. 

Soon after leaving their camp we crossed the low 
divide between the valley of Gardiner's River and that 
of the Yellowstone, and camped very late on Tower 
Creek, a little above its junction with the former river. 

The falls, and also a portion of Tower Creek, are 
well worthy of a visit. The canon of the river is ex- 
ceedingly precipitous and rugged, and is so black, 
savage, and forbidding in its aspect that it has, with 
the strange aptitude evinced by the human race to at- 
tribute everything strange or horrible to the Evil One, 
been called the Devil's Den. Through this narrow 
gorge the river foams and rushes with great velocity; 



186 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

and about 200 yards above its entrance into the 
Yellowstone, which occurs just where that river de- 
bouches from the Grand Canon, it shoots over an 
abrupt descent of 156 feet, forming a very picturesque 
fall. 

In the sides of Tower Creek and in the walls of the 
lower end of the Grand Canon near the mouth of the 
creek are, I think, the most perfect instances of basalt 
to be seen anywhere along the trail. The plain, com- 
posed of volcanic breccia, rolls steeply to the edge of 
the precipice, and then occurs a long escarpment of 
perpendicular basaltic columns arranged with perfect 
regularity. Below, at a little distance, is another wall 
of similarly constructed basalt, and below that again is 
a third row, terminating in a stratum of reddish clay, 
which tops a sheer precipice of the primitive rock. The 
three different lines of basalt are separated by thick 
layers of a whitish substance, resembling the deposits 
of the hot springs, and with bands of red and brown 
clay or marl. The debris of this calcareous formation 
seems to rest loosely upon the trachyte beneath it, as 
it forms pyramid-shaped heaps on the prominent but- 
tresses of basalt. 

We saw to-day on the opposite side of the river the 
gloomy, forbidding gorge of Hell Roaring Creek, its 
entrance guarded by a bold promontory or mountain 
blessed with the same euphonious name. We also 
passed the bridge, the only bridge across the Yellow- 
stone, and therefore an object of some interest. It is 
situated close to the junction of the east fork with the 
main stream, is constructed of stone, and was made at 
a great expense for the accommodation of miners on 
Clarke's Fork. Few there be that cross over it now. 



SPRINGS ON GARDINER'S RIVER 187 

The next day (Tuesday) we broke camp early, and 
about noon met another party, consisting of three men, 
out prospecting. They had but the haziest notion of 
their whereabouts in the world. They had wintered 
in the mountains, and had only once been into settle- 
ments, down somewhere on Snake River, early in the 
spring. We gave them all the information we could, 
and bought some flour from them, giving them an 
order on Boteler's brother for some groceries in ex- 
change. 

The country traversed on this day's march was not 
very interesting. The trail, soon after leaving Tower 
Creek, passes to the west of the Yellowstone, and 
crosses at an easy gradient the northern rim of the basin 
of that river, about a mile west of Mount Washburne. 
The ascent and the descent were very long and tedious, 
but there was a fine view from the summit of the pass. 
A heavily-timbered, flattish, but uneven plain lay be- 
neath us, broken with occasional open spaces or parks; 
to the south the jagged outlines of the Tetons burst 
through the forest; in the east, the range in which 
Clarke's Fork has its rise was glowing in the setting sun, 
as our jaded horses slowly climbed the steep incline; 
and to the west the Madison Mountains were darken- 
ing into night. The snow must be awfully deep on this 
path sometimes, for near the top we noticed some pine 
trees which had been cut down, fully twenty feet above 
the ground, by a party two or three years ago. 

Mount Washburne is the highest peak in this range, 
and, like most American mountains, is very easy of 
ascent. You can ride to the very top, and the view 
from the summit is magnificent; but the day being 
very cloudy I did not then attempt to go up. 



188 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

We camped at a late hour on the south side of the 
mountain; and what a supper I did eat! It may seem 
strange, and it may be very shocking to think and talk 
about one's material comforts and gross appetites: but, 
as I am writing from memory whatever comes upper- 
most, the recollection of antelope-steak is very fresh and 
distinct just at present, savoring in my nostrils and 
bringing moisture to the lip, and overpowering all 
other thoughts. In fancy I can scent the odor of it 
afar off. Would that I could do so in reality ! Bear- 
ing in mind that I had lived for a week at the hot 
springs on burnt flour and water, you will perhaps 
pardon my gastronomic enthusiasm. If people deny 
that one of the greatest enjoyments of life is eating 
when you are famishing, then those people either are 
devoid of the first principles of morality or have never 
been hungry; and they had better learn to speak the 
truth, or live on spare diet for a week, then get into 
vigorous health, and so know what a good appetite 
really means. 

If a man wishes to be comfortable in camp, once for 
all, let him give up the idea of being too comfortable. 
If he tries to carry out his preconceived ideas as to 
cleanliness and dry changes of clothes ; warm things for 
cold weather and cool garments for hot; boots for 
riding and boots for walking, and all the rest of the 
appliances of civilized life, he will find himself con- 
stantly worried and continually disappointed. En- 
cumbered with a large kit, he will never be able to 
find anything he wants, for the needed article is sure 
to sink out of sight into the bottom of the bag. If 
he comes in hot and exhausted — in the condition that 
at home would call imperiously for a bath and a change 



SPRINGS ON GARDINER'S RIVER 189 

— and sets to work to rummage out another suit and 
flannel shirt, he will only succeed in making himself ten 
times hotter than before. He will be irritated by 
hopping about on one leg and tripping up in his efforts 
to scramble out of and into his trousers; and probably 
they will prove hairier than the last pair and will tickle 
his legs. His shirt will certainly have a grass-seed or 
a little bit of stick or something sharp and disagreeable 
sticking in it, that will scratch him every time he 
moves ; or the collar will have shrunk at the last wash- 
ing to half its natural dimensions; or his boots will 
pinch his swollen feet ; and altogether he will find him- 
self at the end of his exertions much more uncomfort- 
able than he was at the beginning. No, no; reduce 
yourself to primitive simplicity; one suit, and a change 
of under garments. If it is cold, put on your change 
and extra shirt ; if it is very hot, go without your coat 
or waistcoat — or breeches, if it pleases you. 

As with dressing so it is also with cooking. The 
same principle obtains in both cases; the simpler and 
less pretentious the style of your cook the better pleased 1 
you will be with the results of his efforts. There is 
nothing between the high art of a cordon bleu — the 
supreme flights of genius which results in such dinners 
as one gets only in a good English house, a first-class 
London club, or an A 1 Paris restaurant — and a steak 
toasted on a stick. I love not the greasy luxuries of the 
frying-pan, the hollow mockery of plates and things 
set out as if for a civilized dinner, napkins folded, and 
all the rest of it. Maxwell tried it on at first, and 
was indignant that his neatly-folded cockades and 
solidifying fat were not appreciated. 

If you like to sit at a cloth spread and arranged in 



190 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

imitation of a dinner-table and to eat of fried meat, 
very good; I don't mind. Those two candles which 
dimly illuminate you are very hard and solid ; they are 
made of elk-fat; and before you have done supper you 
will have several of those candles in your inside. It 
is all a matter of taste. 

Let me tell you the other way. First of all, make 
yourself a cake of flour and water, a little sugar, salt of 
course, and a pinch — a most minute pinch — of baking- 
powder. It does not matter if you put none of the last 
ingredient in ; the bread will be wholesomer without it. 
Roll this out extremely thin like a biscuit, score it with 
your knife, put it on a tin plate, and prop it up with a 
short stick before the embers to bake. It will be crisp, 
brown, and digestible in a few minutes. Put another 
plate near the fire, and let it get nearly red-hot. Then 
with a sharp knife cut yourself a portion of meat from 
the best part of the animal, cutting it at least an inch 
and a half thick. Beat it with your knife-handle to 
break up the fiber, unless it is very tender indeed. 
Then divide it into several small fragments, one of 
which you will, after carefully salting and peppering it, 
impale upon a stick and plunge momentarily into a 
bright clear flame. Then toast it slowly over the 
embers. The sudden immersion in the fire glazes the 
surface of the meat and cakes the salt over it, so that 
during the after process of cooking scarcely any of 
the juice can escape, and the result is a kabob — rich, 
succulent, tender, and fit for any epicure. While you 
are eating one bit you toast another. Your plate is 
hot, your meat hot, your bread crisp and hot, and your 
tea hot ; and, if that won't satisfy you in the wilderness, 
nothing will. This was my style and Boteler's; and 



SPRINGS ON GARDINER'S RIVER 191 

we would lie side by side in front of the fire, toasting 
a little bit, and yet still another little bit, long after the 
others had bolted their hot soft rolls and fried meat. 

We had a most lovely camp that night on the edge 
of a prairie, in a little cozy grassy bay that indented the 
forest shores. The sun sank in a quiet sky; the stars 
shone clear, bright, and steady with unwavering light; 
the universe rested and was at peace. The wind talked 
to the trees, and the pines in answer bowed their stately 
heads, and with a sigh of melancholy swept their 
gloomy branches to and fro. All through the night 
the mysterious music of the distant falls rose and fell 
upon the breeze — sometimes borne up distinct and 
clear, a mighty roar and crash of waters; then sink- 
ing to an almost inaudible hum like the tremulous 
vibration of a mighty but remote harp-string. Not 
far away stood some bare burnt pine trees, sadly com- 
plaining to the night air when it rose and softly touched 
their naked boughs, making to it their melancholy 
moan, and sinking again into silence as the breeze 
passed on. 

We could hear the short comfortable crop, crop, 
crop of the horses as they nipped the herbage. The 
day had been very warm, and the air was heavy with the 
faint odor of autumn flowers and sweet grass, and with 
the strong fragrance of the resinous firs. It was al- 
most too fine a night to waste in sleep, but slumber 
comes soon to tired men soothed by Nature's harmony 
when the elements are at rest; and unconsciousness, 
casting over us her mantle, quickly wrapped our senses 
in her dark folds. 



CHAPTER VIII 

TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 

WEDNESDAY morning found us up betimes, 
blowing our fingers and stamping our feet in 
that chilly "little hour before day," pulling up 
tent-pegs, rolling packs, putting together a few neces- 
saries, and making preparations for a hard day's work. 
As we intended, if possible, to pitch our tents the 
same evening beyond the Mud Springs, and as we 
wished to examine those volcanoes, and also to visit 
the Falls of the Yellowstone, we had determined over- 
night to divide into two parties in order to save time, 
and to send Boteler, Jack, Maxwell, and Campbell 
straight to the camping-place, while the rest of us 
made a detour to the Falls and Springs. Both parties 
having a very long and arduous day's march before 
them, we all hurried out early in the morning before 
it was light, and drove in the stock. While looking 
for them we found wapiti close to camp, and Campbell 
fired at but missed a stag. Jack killed one later in 
the day. Wynne, Kingsley and I felt a little "duber- 
some ,, as to whether we were capable of finding our 
way unguided; but Boteler reassured our diffident 
minds by saying it was all right, and that we should be 
certain to find him without trouble camped about eight 
or ten miles west of the Springs. We could not pos- 

192 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 193 

sibly miss him, he said, because as far as the mud vol- 
canoes there was a fine plain trail to guide us, and after 
that we had only to turn due west and follow another 
track leading in that direction, and right on that track 
the tents would be pitched. So after seeing every- 
thing properly packed and secured, and the mules well 
under way, we turned our horses' heads, and guided 
by the distant sound of water cantered off, full of ex- 
pectation, to see one of the greatest sights of the 
country-side; and after a short ride we arrived at the 
river's brink just above the Falls. 

When the Yellowstone leaves the lake of the same 
name it flows in a calm, steady current for many miles, 
and then, before charging through the phalanx of the 
mountains which oppose its passage to the north, it per- 
forms a series of gymnastics over rapids, cascades, and 
waterfalls, as if exercising its muscles and sinews, pre- 
paring itself and gathering strength for the mighty 
effort by which it tears a passage through the granite 
flanks of the range. A mighty effort truly, or rather 
a vast expenditure of force, has been employed in cleav- 
ing the Grand Canon, a rent in the mountains over 
twenty miles long, and of vast depth. Where the 
river enters the canon the sides are from 1,200 to 2,000 
feet high ; and further down they rise to a greater alti- 
tude, an altitude which has never been determined, for 
the depths of that chasm have not yet been explored or 
trodden by human foot. 

Both the Falls are caused by basaltic dykes or walls, 
crossing the bed of the river at right angles to its course. 
The volume of water is not very great, and there is 
nothing stupendous or soul-subduing here as there is at 
Niagara; neither are the Falls very remarkable for 



194 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

their height. But they have a savage beauty all their 
own, a wild loveliness peculiar to them ; and what they 
lack in volume, power, and general grandeur is amply 
atoned for in the preeminently distinctive character 
of the scenery about them, and by the lavish display 
of color and strange forms of stratification which dis- 
tinguish their surroundings. The scene is so solitary, 
so utterly desolate, the coloring is so startling and novel, 
the fantastic shapes of the rock so strange and weird, 
that a glamor of enchantment pervades the place, which, 
though indelibly impressed upon my mind, is yet quite 
impossible to describe. 

Above the first cascade the river flows in a bold 
sweeping curve through meadows, its swift green cur- 
rent unbroken by rock or rapid. Presently it begins to 
break and foam, dashing over several trachyte ledges 
of eight or ten feet in height. Then the sides close in ; 
the channel contracts rather suddenly; and the river 
penned in between its converging walls rises to a greater 
height, and, rushing with vast force through a narrow 
space, shoots clear out into the air, and dashes down 
140 feet. The water must be deep at the brow of the 
Fall, but it is perfectly white, and does not possess 
those glorious streaks of color, purple and green, that 
are so beautifully exemplified at Niagara. It lodges 
in a horseshoe basin, the sides of which are rather low, 
not more than from 150 to 200 feet in height. Just 
beneath the surface of the water, and directly under 
the cascade, a sloping ledge of rock projects; and the 
somewhat narrow and slender column of water strikes 
the seething waves that barely cover this shelf with 
such violent concussion that it drives itself forward 
like a white fan or inverted wedge for some distance 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 195 

along the dark surface of the pool beyond. Im- 
mediately after its leap the river bends somewhat sud- 
denly to the left, and rushes in a series of small rapids 
over the low ledges and detached fragments of rock of 
which its bed is composed for the space of about half 
a mile which intervenes between the two principal 
dykes. In this half-mile it drops altogether sixty- 
eight feet. 

Above the lower Fall also the waters are compressed 
and heaped up into a narrow channel ; and the Yellow- 
stone entering the gorge with the velocity acquired in 
its rapid descent from the upper shoot, and pressing 
tumultuously through, hurls itself bodily out from the 
edge with a descent of 397 feet, forming a very grand 
cascade. 

After that it goes tearing and tossing, rising in the 
center in white surges, and lashing the sides of the 
chasm in anger, till it is lost to view round an angle of 
the Grand Canon. 

The upper cascade, though much the smaller of the 
two, is the more beautiful, being more instinct with life, 
motion, and variety than the other; but the lower Fall 
is by far the most impressive. 

Along the brink and descending the sides in all direc- 
tions run many game-trails, which may be safely fol- 
lowed, for though mountain sheep can climb almost 
anywhere, yet their ordinary paths are quite practic- 
able for man. 

There are three points from which good views can 
be obtained. The first is a sort of ledge, jutting out 
and affording a fine opportunity for observing the 
upper cascade, the Horseshoe basin, and the crest of 
the lower Fall. 



196 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

The lower Fall itself is best seen from a little prom- 
ontory, which forms an angle in the cliff, and partially 
overhangs the brink. The view from there of the 
river preparing for its leap is very good. The ad- 
vancing volume of water flows rapidly but solidly to 
the very edge, then hurls itself into the air suddenly, 
and falls with a dull thud into a circular foaming 
cauldron, bounded by steep precipices 800 feet in 
height. 

The dark masses of water casting themselves con- 
tinuously over the ledge string out into long, perfectly 
white threads of glistening air-bubbles and foam, and 
long before they reach the surface beneath seem to be 
entirely dissolved into fine spray and rain; but it is 
not so, for at the repeated shocks of their concussion 
earth and air tremble. From the misty depths below 
the roar of the waters constantly arises in distinct 
vibrations like the humming of a harp-string, and the 
steam floats up forever in great clouds. The cliff is 
very bare and naked, but on the western side it is 
partially covered with a carpet of bright green moss, 
nurtured by the ever-falling spray. 

A little further down is a ledge terminating in a 
pillar or horn of rock, from which you can see right 
into the jaws of the canon, and command a general 
view of the foot of the Falls and of both cliff faces, 
far surpassing that to be obtained from any other 
standpoint. 

I left my horse in a clump of trees, and, crawling out 
upon a projecting rock, sat down at the foot of a pine 
tree, leaned back against its ruddy trunk, and sur- 
rendered myself to the enchantment of the spot. Look- 
ing across the river to the east, I saw in the distance 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 197 

wave after wave of forest, broken now and then by a 
bare crest, appearing like an occasional breaker in a 
tumultuous sea. Then came an interval of plain, slop- 
ing gently down in graceful undulations, carpeted with 
short grass, fringed with the forest, and dotted with 
clumps of pines and solitary trees. This lawn con- 
tinues to the very edge of the precipice; and then be- 
neath it, and right opposite to me, rose the face of the 
cliff. This face is composed principally of soft 
material, clays and conglomerates, with here and there 
a few intrusions of weather-worn basalt. The clays 
are dyed (I presume, by the presence of iron, copper, 
and sulphur) into brilliant and startling combinations 
of colors, sometimes beautifully blended together, 
sometimes opposed, with that glaring contradiction to 
the laws of man of which Nature is so fond, and with 
that perfect success that always attends her efforts. 
Every shade of yellow is represented, from a delicate 
cream color to glaring saffron ; bright reds and scarlets, 
and most glorious purples, shading off into black, are 
relieved by occasional patches of vivid verdure, or by 
the more somber green of the few audacious pine trees 
that cling triumphantly to the cliff. The surface is 
by no means uniform, being partially composed of 
basalt, bearing a wonderful resemblance to old masonry, 
and looking like the crumbling walls of some over- 
whelmed town, and partly of conglomerates of hot 
spring deposit and calcareous earths. Breaking 
through the soft material in lines and buttresses, these 
harder fragments terminate in or rest upon a steep 
slope of richly-colored clay. The whole face of the 
cliff is thus composed of a series of broken, detached, 
sheer precipices, divided by almost perpendicular inters 



198 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

vals of variegated conglomerates and clays, on which 
grow a few scattered and struggling pines. 

The easily disintegrated strata, yielding more readily 
to the action of weather than the harder rocks, have 
assumed most fantastic shapes; spires, pinnacles, and 
isolated peaks, round towers, and square castellated 
masses of indurated clays, alternating with sharp 
angular fragments of more closely-textured rock, are 
left standing erect upon the slopes. Some of the 
springs have formed on the smooth surface crooked 
horns and protuberances. In some places the precipice 
is coated with lime, dazzlingly white ; in others the de- 
posit is of delicately yellow crystals of sulphur. 
Springs of water carrying sulphur and sulphate of 
copper are numerous, and have painted the cliff in long 
streaks of color. 

To examine and study at all in detail this wonderful 
canon and these waterfalls would occupy the attention 
of a scientific man for a long time, and right well 
would he be rewarded for his labor. It is a place full 
of interest even to the most casual and careless observer. 
His external senses are all appropriately appealed to; 
the hidden recesses of his inner self are reached and 
stirred by the mystery and wild beauty of the scene; 
and a man sitting alone and gazing upon it cannot 
fail to be strongly impressed by so wonderful a view. 
He becomes saturated with the glories of Nature, 
stunned with the magnitude of her works. His ear 
is soothed and his soul awed by the deep, monotonous, 
everlasting cadence of the Fall, and by the sad sighing 
of the pine trees under which he sits. His eye, pleased 
yet almost bewildered by the infinite variety and 
voluptuousness of the coloring, rests with gladness on 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 199 

the scattered patches of spray-nurtured moss. His 
whole being becomes possessed with a feeling of utter 
littleness, and with the hopelessness of ever thinking to 
rise to a level sufficiently high to enable him to compre- 
hend in the smallest degree the greatness and grandeur 
of the Creator's works, mingled with a sense of intense 
delight and enthusiasm at the manifestation of force, 
beauty, and persistent strength before him. A feeling 
of pardonable pride thrills through him — pride that he 
too forms a part of the same scheme, is a higher mani- 
festation of the same power, a more perfect combina- 
tion of the same material. He feels at one with 
Nature; — the birds that fly, the beasts that roam the 
forests, the very trees and leaves and flowers are his 
brethren. For an instant there rushes across his mind 
a swift shadowy apprehension of the idea of an all- 
pervading Something, of a great awful Oneness, that, 
in spite of the jangling, discordant jarrings, the disloca- 
tions and apparent contradictions of existence, envelops 
us in its limitless unanimity, is round about us every- 
where, in all things and through all things. For an 
instant he soars above the shadows cast by the ignorance 
of mankind, and pierces the clouds of our folly. The 
harsh grating of the inexplicable problems that haunt 
us, the hideous inharmonies that harass us, the ques- 
tions which, because they cannot be answered and will 
not be evaded, drive men to despair, dimmed in the 
sudden blaze of intelligence that dazzles him, drowned 
in the great monotone that thrills him to the core, 
sound but as the slight creaking of machinery, the 
necessary rattle of the cranks, the unavoidable friction 
of the wheels of an engine not yet in thorough work- 
ing order, yet as perfect as possible, and destined one 



200 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

day to run smoothly without sound, or jar, or jerk. 
He snatches at the flash of a vision of what the world 
might be, of what it will be. For one second his eye 
and mind overleap the barriers of space and time, and 
for once in his life he understands the statement that 
when God looked down upon the world, "behold it 
was very good." 

The sleep-giving, soothing fragrance of the resinous 
pine, cleanest, sweetest and most healing of all scents, 
fills the air. Far up above in the transparent sky two 
eagles are slowly circling. There is a drowsy, dull, 
contented hum of insects in the branches. All the 
senses are hushed and quieted, the nerves soothed, the 
soul steeped in the infinite beauty of the scene. And in 
truth a man is so wrought upon, his nerves are so ex- 
cited, and at the same time so gently calmed — so many 
conflicting emotions are called up at once, so many dif- 
ferent chords are struck and vibrate together, that he 
scarcely knows what to do or how to analyze and ap- 
preciate his feelings. At one moment he could sit for 
hours in solitude, acutely listening to the whispered 
messages of Nature, absorbing the life of the forest, 
drinking in God's glories. At another moment he is 
almost overcome; the awful sense of the nearness of 
Nature is too much for him; he feels as though he 
were sitting in the presence of some great Mystery. 
An unutterable longing to know more seizes his soul, 
mingled with an instinctive dread that the unfolding 
of the secret would be too much for mere mortal ears; 
and he is possessed with an impulse to rush from the 
spot and escape from too close a contact with Nature, 
which he has not spiritual strength enough to bear. 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 201 

He can understand the feeling of Longfellow's Count 
Arnaldo in "The Secret of the Sea," where it says — 

His saul was full of longing, 
And he cried with accents strong: 
"Helmsman, for the love of Heaven, 
Teach me, too, that wondrous song;" 

or of the poet himself when in the same hymn he 
sings — 

Till my soul is full of longing 
For the secret of the sea, 
And the heart of the great ocean 
Sends a thrilling pulse through me. 

I think that men become half mesmerized when in 
lonely places they look upon some masterpiece of the 
great Architect of all things. They become partially 
ecstatic; and it is a great and positive relief to break 
the charm by talking to somebody, and by doing or say- 
ing something to bring them back to the realities of 
ordinary life. 

We were very soon hurried out of fairy land by 
noticing the fact that the pine trees were casting short 
shadows, and that it must be getting very late in the 
forenoon. So we reluctantly went back to our horses, 
who had been eating all the time, and in nowise think- 
ing of or appreciating the scenic excellences about them ; 
and, tightening up our girths, we swung into the saddle 
and resumed our way. 

I never enjoyed a ride more in my life, and never ex- 
pect to have so pleasant a one again. The day was 
very bright and warm, and the hazy autumn atmos- 
phere cast over distant objects a shimmering, gauzy in- 
distinctness that greatly enhanced their beauty. 



202 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

The country was throughout pretty. At every turn 
in the trail some fresh vista in the forest opened out, or 
some new distant view unfolded itself before our eyes. 
Woodpeckers tapped busily on the dead trees ; squirrels 
chattered as they shook down the pine-nuts, and, full 
of fun and mischief, peeped at us from their homes in 
the branches; the few song-birds that are met with in 
American forests were singing, happy in the pleasant 
warmth of an Indian summer day. We had no pack- 
mules to bother ourselves about; and with light hearts 
full of merriment, happy with the exhilaration of ani- 
mal health, rejoicing in the sheer pleasure of being 
alive, we cantered over the level plain or wound in 
single file, our guns lying across the pommel in front 
of us, through the silent glades of the forest. The 
hours sped quickly by, for time does not hang heavy 
when all the senses are occupied with observing and 
appreciating the various changes of scenery that con- 
stantly occur. Sometimes the trail followed the river, 
which flows, now rapidly and noisily over broad shal- 
lows, now with a swift but quiet current, through a 
deeper channel. Sometimes it turned into the forest 
and twined and twisted among its dark recesses, or 
traversed open glades and parks, apparently so well 
tended and cared for that one was constantly expecting 
to come in sight of some stately country house. 

One very pretty view I remember well. I would 
have given much to have been able to sketch it. We 
were riding quietly along, and turning suddenly round 
a bend came upon a broad reach of the river, glassy, 
smooth, and deep — on either side the ground, turf- 
covered, level, and trim like a lawn, rolled upwards in 
long graceful curves, its open glades interspersed with 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 203 

trees, arranged by a hand more artistic than that of 
man. The upward sloping ground on either side of 
the water formed a perfect frame, in which was set in 
the far, far distance a great solitary scalped mountain, 
black with ravines and valleys, bright with sunshine, 
and capped with snow. 

Nor were we indebted to scenery alone for the 
pleasures which we so thoroughly enjoyed this day. 
Wynne enlivened the road with humorous stories; and 
many a song, composed and sung by some camp-fire 
in the Crimea, or in some far-away bivouac of India, 
rang through the forest and awakened the echoes. 
We were constantly on the look-out for game also, 
for signs were plentiful enough to keep us on the qui 
v'tve, and fish and fowl swarmed in the woods and 
water. Flocks of Canada geese and ducks rose splash- 
ing and flapping from the margin of the river, filling 
the air with their sonorous cries. When we rode by 
the brink the great trout wagged their broad tails at us 
as they slowly sailed from out the patches of green 
weed. We saw several indications also of deer; and 
on riding out of a wood on to a little plain covered 
with gray sage-brush we espied, not half a mile off, a 
large bull elk. Wynne and I determined to stalk him, 
so we dismounted, and Kingsley held the horses. 

The wind was all right, but, as the ground was very 
level, we had to crawl for a long way through the 
brush ; and after making ourselves very hot and dusty 
we were disgusted to find that the wapiti was on the 
other side of the river, which is here about 200 or 250 
yards broad, and that the sage-brush which concealed 
us did not grow down to the brink. So we sat down 
and looked at him, much to the Doctor's astonishment, 



204 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

for he could not see the water, but could see us and 
the stag, and wondered why on earth we did not crawl 
up and shoot. While we watched the stag went down 
to the river, drank a little, and then going back 100 
yards or so lay down under a tree. We fired two shots 
at him; the first one went just over his head, for we 
could see the bullet strike the dusty ground beyond. 
He did not take the slightest notice of it; but the sec- 
ond shot struck him fairly in the heart and killed him 
where he lay. 

We wanted meat, and the head appeared to be a 
large one; so I forded the river, and a very nasty job 
it was. The water was just of that depth that my 
horse could keep his feet and no more, and the river- 
bed was full of patches of quicksand, into which he 
sank, terrifying both himself and me into fits. The 
river was full of trout; behind every bit of weed lay 
a fish of about two or four pounds weight; and very 
much astounded they appeared to be at my intrusion: 
but I will warrant they were not a whit more alarmed 
at finding me among them than I was at finding my- 
self in their society. Either walking or swimming I 
should not have minded ; but my pony's progress was a 
mixture of both, aggravated by an occasional violent 
flounder and struggle to extricate his feet from a quick- 
sand. It took me, I am sure, more than half an hour 
to pick my way across that treacherous river; and 
when I did get over I found that the stag was utterly 
worthless for food. He was reduced almost to a 
skeleton ; his hair had all come off, and he presented a 
most mangy, dissipated, dilapidated appearance; but he 
carried an exceedingly fine pair of antlers; so I cut off 
his head, and left it to be called for on our return. 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 205 

Haying rejoined Kingsley we pushed on rapidly, 
passing several mounds and hills of white deposit, 
some extinct, others active and smoking briskly. . . . 

It is scarcely necessary for me to say that when we 
arrived at the Mud Springs we found that the principal 
geyser had just finished spouting, and that the water in 
the basin was rapidly subsiding. However, we had 
three or four hours to spare, so we tethered our horses 
and sat down patiently to watch. In about an hour's 
time we were joined by the outfit. This was a very 
lucky accident, for if they had not passed that way we 
might have been sitting at the Mud Springs till now. 
We never should have found camp, for the trail which 
Boteler said would lead us to it existed only in his 
imagination. After waiting a little to rest the animals, 
Boteler went on, telling us to turn sharp to the west 
and follow his trail. 

The principal spring in this group is a basin of about 
100 feet in circumference, situated within a larger 
basin. The sides and surrounding surface are com- 
posed of bare smooth mud, baked by the sun, and worn 
into little channels by the action of the water, which 
when we arrived was trickling back into the basin from 
which it had been hurled by the last explosion. While 
we watched, the water in the inner orifice sank until 
there was but a little thick muddy liquid left at the 
bottom, and then it began slowly to rise again. 

There we sat for hours, a ludicrous-looking group, 
three men and a dog gazing earnestly at a lot of mud 
which slowly, slowly rose, while the sun rapidly sank. 
I suppose, acting on the principle that a watched pot 
never boils, this geyser sternly refused to do its duty. 
It would not get angry. Every now and then a slight 



206 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

spasm would shake its placid, muddy countenance, 
but it was rather, I think, a smile of derision than a 
grin of rage that crossed it. We abused that spring 
in every way in our power. We threw sticks into it 
and stones, but it was no use; nothing would rile it; 
and at length, when we could count only upon an 
hour's light, we were forced to leave and look for 
camp. Very lucky it was that we did -not delay any 
longer, for we had not gone 500 yards before we 
utterly lost the trail of our outfit. They had turned 
on to a prairie, baked as hard as iron and covered with 
perfectly dry wiry grass, on which the animals' feet 
left no impression whatever. We knew the direction 
they had gone, and that was all ; but whether they had 
traversed the prairie, or turned into the forest that 
bordered it, we could not tell. However, there was 
no time to waste in hunting the trail ; so, sticking spurs 
into our horses, we galloped along due west. The sun 
sank and the night fell ; there was no sign either of trail 
or camp, and we began to think that we might make 
up our minds to go supperless and blanketless to sleep 
that night, when, to our great satisfaction, we saw a 
little glimmer of light reflecting on the white canvas 
of the tents, and found camp comfortably placed in 
a nice sheltered nook just at the edge of the forest. It 
was the second time I had had a scare that day, for in 
the morning I somehow got separated from my two 
companions, and could not find them for a couple of 
hours. 

It is a very mean feeling to be all alone and to fancy 
one's self lost ; nothing so quickly upsets a man's mental 
equilibrium. I have been most fortunate (in a good 
hour be it spoken), and have never yet got out of my 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 207 

reckoning without getting in again pretty soon. The 
nearest I have ever come to being lost was in the 
neighborhood of Fort Bridger. It happened in this 
way. 

Camp was on a creek running into one of the tributa- 
ries of Green River, and into this creek flowed several 
little rills, On the banks of one of these small 
branches, about a mile up from its junction with the 
creek, we had slept on our way to Henry's Fork, where 
we had been looking for wapiti. We were now on 
the return journey, and had pitched our tents on the 
borders of the creek some distance above the old camp- 
ing-ground I have just mentioned. The country about 
there is very heavily timbered, and consists of endless 
ridges, all much the same in appearance. Very few 
distinguishing landmarks break the uniformity of the 
forest. Well, our guide, Old Man Smith, and I went 
out one morning to look for deer, and hunted all the 
forenoon along a little rivulet, a tributary of the creek. 
About noon Smith went home, telling me to leave the 
watercourse and to keep about south. If I did so, he 
said, I should pass through a good hunting-ground, 
and could not go astray, as I should strike the springs 
of the little stream beside which we had camped on 
the way up. So, acting on his advice, I plunged into 
a forest so thick that I could barely see enough of the 
sun to keep my course correctly. After hunting along 
diligently for an hour or two I came across some dry 
coulees. I followed them down going west, and after 
awhile came to stagnant pools and then to flowing 
water. "All right," thought I ; "this is the creek sure 
enough." As I descended the stream the banks be- 
came very steep and rough, and much encumbered with 



208 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

fallen trees. The water had in many places been 
dammed up by beavers, and impenetrable marshes had 
been formed that necessitated tedious detours. I made 
slow progress, and, as it was getting late, determined 
to strike into the timber in a northwest direction and 
so make a short cut to camp. But I came across such 
an awful windfall that I could make no headway, and 
was forced to abandon that attempt and return to the 
stream. 

This term "windfall" is used technically, to describe 
those streaks and patches of dense forest in which the 
trees, by some sudden gust or blast uprooted, have 
fallen to the ground, or, locked in each other's 
branches, form a half standing, half falling network 
of limbs and boughs. It is impossible for a man who 
has not seen it to imagine the inextricable confusion of 
a windfall. 

The traveling improved a little and I pushed on 
rapidly, running whenever I could, and expecting at 
every moment to see in the distance the hills bound-, 
ing the main creek. But, no ; I was doomed to con- 
stant disappointment. Every ridge that I took to be 
the high bank of the principal stream turned out, on 
approaching it, to be merely a bend in the rivulet I 
was descending. From what Qld Man Smith told 
me, I had calculated the length of the little creek from 
its source to our old camp, and I judged I must have 
traveled at least twice that distance. Quite blown and 
out of breath I stopped, and it flashed across me that I 
was on the wrong creek, and that I was lost. There 
was no use in my arguing with myself that I had been 
going in the right direction, and that my course, though 
very zigzaggy, was in the main correct ; that Old Man 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 209 

Smith had said that the first water was the right one, 
and that I could not have missed it. I knew that a 
quarter, or at any rate half, the distance I had traveled 
ought to have brought me out at the main creek, and 
I felt that I was lost. I reflected a moment. Where 
could this stream be flowing? I had no acquaintance 
with the geography of the country, beyond a vague 
idea that the little rills all ran into creeks, that united 
in two or three larger creeks, which in their turn dis- 
charged into Green River. Supposing that I followed 
this down, and then followed the creek it discharged 
into down to Green River, whereabouts would I strike 
it? Near the Green River railway crossing, or far 
below? How long would it take me to get to the 
railway ? For how many days would I have to wander 
and fast? Besides, was I certain that there was no 
other watershed ? Did all the streams and creeks flow 
into Green River? Might I not fall upon some tribu- 
tary which, flowing with a course nearly parallel to the 
main river, would lead me through hundreds of miles 
of dismal desert? I tried to think composedly, but 
could not. 

My head turned ; my brain became quite bewildered ; 
and an impulse to run straight ahead seized me. I 
was, to use the vernacular, for the moment completely 
"turned round." It seems to me most absurd, as I sit 
here writing, to suppose that one could be so easily 
thrown, even for an instant, off one's balance ; but all 
men, except those who by long custom have acquired 
habits of complete self-dependence and self-control, 
are liable to such temporary aberrations — for it almost 
amounts to that; — and I have even seen very old and 
experienced prairie men become quite "turned round" 



210 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

after running elk, and so obstinate in their conviction 
that they were going right, when in reality the fact 
that they were moving in a totally wrong direction was 
clearly demonstrated by compass, that it required a 
strong effort on their part to force themselves to act 
according to the needle and not upon their own mis- 
taken judgment. 

However, I was not so stupid long; I had sense 
enough to know that I must on no account leave the 
water, and I determined to believe that, though I was 
certainly on the wrong stream, yet no doubt it ran 
somewhere or other into the right creek. And so, as I 
did not seem capable of reasoning my way out just then, 
and as the sun was very low, I made up my mind to 
camp right there. Accordingly, I shot a squirrel for 
supper, picked a dry spot to sleep on, gathered a lot 
of branches together, and, having thus provided food 
and fire, thought I would take one more good look 
around. I mounted the highest ridge close by but could 
see nothing. On the top was a tall pine tree. I 
climbed that, and beheld right in front of me a dis- 
tinct, unmistakable ridge cutting at right angles across 
the direction of my valley. Hooray ! I said to myself ; 
the stream runs into something anyhow; and, as it 
cannot be more than a couple of miles to that ridge, I 
may as well chance it and go down to the mouth. 
And so I pocketed my squirrel, left my fire, and made 
tracks at best pace down-stream. I had not gone very 
far before I saw the impression of a boot-heel in the 
sand. That's all right, thought I ; and chucking away 
my squirrel I cheerily walked on, for I knew I must be 
close to the old camp. A few hundred yards further 
on I found it, followed our old trail into the wagon- 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 211 

track leading to the saw-mill, and plodded along that 
road till I got to camp. 

I had been right enough all the time ; the only trouble 
was that the little stream was much longer, and made 
a great deal more southing than, judging by Smith's 
description, I had supposed it did. 

Of course, when they said in camp that they had 
been getting anxious and had thought of looking for 
me, lighting fires, firing guns, and all the rest of it, I 
laughed the idea to scorn. I wasn't going to get lost, 
not I; they might bet their "bottom dollars" about 
that. I did not tell them what a fix I had been in, or 
that I had considered it necessary to collect my fuel 
and kill my supper. 

The most extraordinary instance that has come under 
my notice of a man being lost for a length of time and 
surviving, occurred in this very Yellowstone country. 

From a detailed account of his adventures, written 
by himself and published in Scribners Magazine, it 
appears that in August, 1870, Mr. Evarts, formerly 
United States assessor for Montana, joined a numerous 
company about to visit the Geyser region. One day, 
while the party were with difficulty unraveling their 
way through thick forests, and the members of it had 
all scattered out in search of a practicable path, Mr. 
Evarts strayed so far away that he lost touch of his 
companions altogether. It was late, and being unable 
to rejoin them he was compelled to camp out alone on 
that night. This occurred close to the lake. 

The next day Mr. Evarts resumed his search, and 
seeing, as he thought, some indications of a trail, he 
dismounted to examine the ground more carefully, and 
neglected to secure his horse. Something or other 



212 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

happened to scare the animal; and, his attention at- 
tracted by a crashing in the brush, Mr. Evarts looked 
up just in time to catch a glimpse of his horse disap- 
pearing through the trees. The loss of his horse was 
in itself a terrible disaster ; but that was not all, for on 
the saddle were his gun, matches, blanket, fishing- 
tackle, and all the other appliances which render a 
man comparatively safe and self-supporting in the 
midst of the wilderness. He never saw the horse 
again, and for thirty-five days after that fatal parting 
this unfortunate gentleman wandered alone, through 
woods and over mountains, totally unarmed, and with 
no other instruments or appliances than two knives 
and a pair of small field-glasses. Strange to say, he 
allowed himself almost to perish daily, for want of fire, 
for nearly a fortnight, before he thought of kindling 
one by means of the lenses of his glasses. One of the 
fearfully cold storms which suddenly arise in these lati- 
tudes came on, and he would have succumbed to cold 
and exposure had he not managed to reach a group of 
hot springs. As it was, he was severely frosted on both 
feet. In that neighborhood he remained seven days, 
keeping himself warm by lying on the hot incrustation 
surrounding a little boiling spring, in which he cooked 
an insignificant supply of roots. 

The day before his rescue he lost his glasses also; 
an additional misfortune which nearly overthrew the 
slight remnant of life and reason which still held out 
against the fatal effects of his prolonged and unpar- 
alleled sufferings. At an earlier stage of his adventures 
he had even lost his knives. In fact, after commencing 
with his horse, he lost everything of use that he had 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 213 

with him ; and the only marvel is that he did not lose 
his head also, and his life. 

As he had become separated from the outfit on a 
peninsula of the Yellowstone Lake, round which they 
were making their way, Mr. Evarts took a direction 
which he thought would cut across this peninsula at 
right angles, and bring him out on the shores ahead 
of the party. He did emerge upon the sandy beach of 
a lake; but it was not the lake he was searching for; 
it was another sheet of water altogether. 

Here he found some edible thistles, and tasted food 
for the first time in four days ; and upon an exceedingly 
scanty supply of these roots, grass, and leaves, he 
managed to subsist for thirty-one days more. The only 
animal food that he contrived to get consisted of one 
wretched little fowl no bigger than a snow-bunting, 
which, as it was benumbed with cold, he succeeded in 
capturing, and the tip of a sea-gull's wing which he 
picked up. It strikes one as very singular that he 
could not snare or kill with sticks and stones something 
to eat in the shape of squirrels, birds, mice, or badgers. 
But it is easy to talk when one is not in a fix at all, 
and to think of all the ingenious contrivances one would 
have invented. When it comes to the point, I dare 
say the captious critic of his actions would starve as 
soon as anybody else. I don't want to try it at any 
rate. I have no doubt an old mountain man would 
have procured food somehow; but Mr. Evarts must 
have been entirely unaccustomed to a wild life, else 
he never would have lost his horse, left his rifle on the 
saddle when he dismounted, or gone about without a 
supply of matches in his pocket. This, however, adds 



214 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

much to the interest of his story, and enhances the 
marvelousness of his escape. 

While waiting at the hot springs for fine weather, 
he manufactured a knife out of the tongue of a buckle, 
and made a fishing-line and hook out of some red tape 
and a pin. This is probably the only instance on record 
of red tape proving of the slightest use to anybody. 
He subsequently lost all these articles in a forest fire. 
He tried to make another fish-hook out of the rim of a 
pair of broken spectacles, but failed. Mr. Evarts was 
certainly the most unfortunate man that ever was lost. 
Everything that could happen to him did occur. His 
feet were badly frozen; he lost all he had originally, 
and everything that he made; he even got rid of one 
of his shoes; he slipped into some boiling water and 
scalded his hip severely; and it was apparently his 
nightly custom to tumble into the fire and burn him- 
self. He left the group of springs on the eighth day, 
and returned to the lake. Here he stumbled upon a 
camping-ground of his party, and found an old baking- 
powder tin and a fork. He did not attempt to follow 
the trail, but started in the right direction for Boze- 
man. He made but little progress and wandered for 
many days, gradually becoming weaker and weaker, 
until he was discovered in the last stage of exhaustion, 
about seventy miles from Fort Ellis, by two men who 
had been sent out to hunt for him. One of them 
started immediately for medical assistance from the 
Fort, while the other remained with Mr. Evarts, who 
in two days was capable of being moved to a miner's 
cabin, twenty miles distant. But there he nearly 
perished, for though the miners most carefully tended 
and watched him, and did everything in their power 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 215 

to alleviate his sufferings, they had not the medicines 
necessary for his condition. A thirty-five days 1 diet 
on tough fibrous roots had completely arrested all the 
digestive functions of the body, and he would most un- 
doubtedly have died had not an old hunter and trapper 
happened to pass by. This man, who had probably 
been many times starved himself, knew exactly what 
was the matter, and fortunately he had also the means 
of overcoming the evil. From the fat of a bear he 
had recently killed he tried out a pint of clear oil, and 
administered the draught to Mr. Evarts. This had 
the desired effect, and rest and good food completed the 
cure. I envy Mr. Evarts the strength of his brain. 
How he contrived not to go entirely and irrecoverably 
mad I cannot imagine. His understanding must be 
strong indeed. Comparatively early in his wanderings, 
he experienced, to use his own word, "one of those 
strange hallucinations which many of my friends have 
misnamed insanity, but which was to me Providence." 
An old clerical friend seemed to appear to him, and 
authoritatively ordered him to take a certain direction. 
Reluctantly, for it was quite contrary to his own convic- 
tions, he followed the advice of his ghostly companion, 
and was saved; but whether or not, he could have 
succeeded in carrying out his own intention of crossing 
the mountains to Virginia City, it is of course impossible 
to say. 

Later on his mind became much affected. The dif- 
ferent members and portions of his body segregated 
themselves into separate and distinct individualities and 
identities, who accompanied him as companions, and 
with whom he, to his great satisfaction, kept up a con- 
stant conversation. Yet during this time he was able 



216 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

to reason consistently and sensibly about his condition, 
the route he ought to take, and his chances of winning 
out, and to think perfectly naturally of his home ties 
and affections. Altogether it is a wonderful history, 
and one worthy of notice, as exemplifying what an in- 
credible amount of hardship, cold, and starvation the 
human frame is capable of enduring, and showing 
what apparently insurmountable obstacles and diffi- 
culties a man can overcome, if only he can manage to 
retain even a partial mastery over his mind and reason. 

But to return to the subject of mud volcanoes. 
Though disappointed on our first visit, we on another 
occasion saw two or three eruptions of the principal 
spring. 

The water gradually rises till the inner basin is quite 
full, becoming more and more agitated as it flows. It 
then gives one or two convulsive heaves, dashing the 
waves violently against the sides, recovers itself for a 
few minutes, and next with still more violent throes it 
goes off, casting mud and water about twenty or thirty 
feet high. Then occurs a momentary lull, after which 
the explosions continue with increased vigor. The 
whole operation lasts about ten minutes; after which 
the water gradually subsides and falls to the bottom 
of the basin. 

There is something very comical in the appearance 
of these great pots of bubbling, splashing, and explosive 
mud; something almost grotesque in the manner they 
cast high into the air masses of clay and tons of dirty 
water. 

Round about this central group are a great many 
mud springs ; some large, some small, some intermittent 
and resembling the specimen described, some constant 



TO THE YELLOWSTONE FALLS 217 

in their action like the Giants Cauldron and the 
Grotto. The former of these two volcanoes is situ- 
ated on the hillside, in a little ravine. It has a very 
large orifice, about forty feet in diameter and thirty 
feet in depth. This Cauldron is filled with thin mud 
in a state of most fearfully wild commotion, boiling, 
spitting, and spluttering like a pot full of stirabout 
screeching hot. The roar of it can be heard at a 
considerable distance, and the steam of it ascends in a 
dense column to heaven. A slight smell only of 
sulphureted hydrogen is noticeable here, but with 
many of these mud springs not only does the steam 
ascend to heaven but the stench also. 

The Grotto is a cavern extending almost laterally, 
but with a slight downward inclination, into the side 
of the hill. It is situated close to the river. The 
mouth is about five feet in diameter, and it is full of 
clear water, madly boiling, and in a state of most 
violent gaseous ebullition. The steam from it is so 
hot that you cannot approach it. . . . 

The water in the river near the springs, and in fact 
everywhere above the Falls, must be greatly impreg- 
nated with various mineral substances, and its tempera- 
ture considerably raised by the constant streams of hot 
water and mud that are poured into it. 

The trout inhabiting its clear depths are exceedingly 
large and fine to look at, and will take a fly or any 
other sort of bait voraciously; but they are almost 
useless for food, being with few exceptions full of 
intestinal insects. The ghosts of digested worms seem 
to have revenged themselves on the living fish here, 
for instead of being devoured by the trout, the trout 
afford food for them. Some people eat these fish, and 



218 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

say that they are very good; but I have never been 
hungry enough to get over the feeling of repugnance 
caused by the presence of these parasites. 

The worms are found, not only in the intestines, but 
in the solid flesh also ; and vary in length and size, the 
largest being about six inches long. From the scars 
on the outside of the fish it would seem as if the insects 
ate their way completely through them. Occasion- 
ally you meet with a trout that has escaped the plague, 
and he is then bright, broad, thick-shouldered, and a 
very handsome fish; but when the worms are very 
numerous he becomes a long, lanky, dull-colored, ugly- 
looking brute. 

The prevalence of these parasites must be due to the 
warmth of the water, or to the presence of the various 
mineral substances in solution; for it is remarkable 
that, whereas such a thing as a trout entirely free 
from them is almost unknown above the Falls, I have 
never heard of a wormy fish being taken below them, 
or even between the upper and lower cascades. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE GEYSERS 

MEAT had been growing very scarce for the last 
few days. We had scraped clean the bones of 
the antelope we packed with us from Gardiner's 
River, and afterwards boiled them into soup; and we 
had killed nothing on the march except wapiti stags, 
which at this time of year are not fit to eat ; so we de- 
termined to halt, for a day at any rate, and endeavor 
to replenish the larder. Accordingly, the next morn- 
ing before light we all went out — each taking a dif- 
ferent direction — to look for game ; scanning the 
ground and peering through the trees, with the eager- 
ness not only of hunters, but of hungry men. But 
no distant rifle-shot, bearing tidings of dinner, broke 
the silence of the morning air, or echoed "supper" 
through the glades; and about nine o'clock the hunters 
returned tired and dejected, all with the same story to 
tell; plenty of old sign, but not a single fresh track, 
and nothing whatever eatable to be seen. So we 
hurriedly broke camp and moved about five miles, to a 
little branch rising among some old beaver dams; and 
there pitched our tents again, it being the last water 
to be found on the north side of the divide which 
separated us from the Fire Hole Basin. 

Again we all went out for an evening hunt, buoyed 
yp with emptiness and hope; but our exertions were 
219 



220 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

attended with the same result. I soon made up my 
mind that there was no game then fn the country ; and 
finding a pool in a little stream that was full of small 
trout, I turned to and caught three or four dozen little 
fellows only about four to six inches long, but in very 
good condition and first-rate to eat. None of the 
others had returned when I got back to camp; and as 
they straggled in singly I anxiously watched their dis- 
tant forms to see if any of them bent under the weight 
of a deer. But, no! They all walked erect, and we 
had to go to bed again with our guns full and our 
insides tolerably empty. 

A council of war held that night resulted in four of 
us — Boteler, Wynne, Kingsley, and myself — starting 
for the Geyser Basin. We took one mule only with us 
to carry our blankets, small tent, and provisions, such 
as there were, for a few days. We left the rest of the 
outfit where they lay, with Texas Jack to take care of 
them and to hunt during our absence. The mule we 
took with us, by name Jack, was the best of the lot. 
He was a most marvelous animal, gifted with an 
amount of sense, and with a power of judging distances 
to a mathematical nicety, that were wonderful to see. 
Moreover, he was patient, strong, wise, willing, and 
good-humored: — this last quality is not often to be 
met with in mules. 

Jack could keep up a long swinging trot all day, 
if not overloaded. He would ascertain, by some 
means best known to himself, the exact width of his 
pack, and would measure his distance between the trees 
to an inch, running through apertures that looked far 
too narrow for him, but never striking or getting 
jammed. He had some extraordinary method also of 



THE GEYSERS 221 

determining the height of his pack, and could tell pre- 
cisely whether he could pass under an overhanging 
bough without stooping, and, if not, how much he 
would have to stoop. If necessary, without pausing 
for a moment in his trot, he would double-down until 
his belly almost touched the ground, and wriggle him- 
self through under a fallen tree in the most ludicrous 
manner. It is no easy task for a man, even though he 
be accustomed to the mountains and the forests, to 
make his way through the matted labyrinth of these 
primeval woods; and Boteler, with all his knowledge 
and all his instinct — with the acquired ease and natural 
facility that spring from constant habit — found it im- 
possible to make anything like a straight trail through 
the tangle, and had not unfrequently to turn back com- 
pletely arrested by some impenetrable windfall. 

But through such places, if they were practicable at 
all, Jack would run, jump, climb, or crawl, picking his 
way without pause or comment. His faculty of stoop- 
ing under branches, though very useful at times, was 
inconvenient when he was required as a riding animal. 
He would forget for a moment that he had not a tall 
pack upon his back, and in passing under some leaning 
tree, to avoid which the rider would merely stoop his 
head, not expecting for a moment that the mule would 
stoop also, down he would go, and with a twist and 
wriggle of his body writhe himself under the supposed 
obstacle, much to his rider's surprise and discomfort. 

Our path lay for some little distance along the verge 
of an old lake-bed, now a grass-covered prairie; and 
then, striking into the timber, it crossed a low divide 
into the valley system of the Fire Hole, or east fork of 
the Madison River. Before crossing the divide we 



222 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

passed a few old wigwams, remains of encampments 
of Sheep-eaters. These were the last indications of 
Indians that we saw, for the natives are afraid of the 
Geyser Basins, and do not venture into that locality 
at all. 

Beyond the watershed the ground k exceedingly 
soft, treacherous, and boggy, traversed by streams of 
hot water, which are by no means easy to cross; and 
we had much trouble in keeping a direct course. As 
we advanced, the appearance of the country became 
more and more strange and interesting. We were 
near the end of our pilgrimage. We were in the lower 
Fire Hole Basin. 

Presently we rode out into a little grassy plain of 
perhaps 1,500 or 2,000 acres, a perfectly level bay of 
the comparatively level plain of some thirty square 
miles that composes the East Madison Basin; and 
pulling up our horses we stopped to look round. Close 
at hand were two untenanted tents, and some very 
good-looking horses in first-rate condition were 
picketed hard by. Our stock was very poor, whereas 
these animals were fat ; ours were giving out, and some 
of them showed strong symptoms of breaking down 
altogether, while these were strong and capable of 
doing hard work. There was nobody looking. The 
epidemic of the country seized us in all its virulence. 
Horse-stealing is in the air in the West, and if a 
stranger is not careful he may catch it. But we re- 
strained ourselves ; whether from a fear of committing 
a breach of morality, or from an indistinct idea that 
somebody might be observing us with a six-shooter 
handy, I do not pretend to say. 

In front of us lay a circular plain, grass-covered at 



THE GEYSERS 223 

the extremities nearest to us, but bare towards the 
center where the surface seemed to be composed of clay. 
To the west rose a low, massive mesa, black as night 
and draped with forest; across the eastern sky stretched 
the high timbered ridge forming the divide we had 
just crossed ; and to the north and south the unbroken 
forest rolled up to the verge of the prairie. It had 
been drizzling all the morning ; the day was very damp 
and still; and from the margin of the prairie, and 
from many places among the pine trees, rose in the 
heavy atmosphere dense white vertical columns of 
steam. The sight was novel and very impressive. 
The thickly-growing small pine trees flourished to 
the very edge of the open space, fringing it with a 
symmetrical clearly-defined line. It looked as though 
a giant with a cheese-scoop had taken a sample of the 
country; as if a great patch of land had suddenly 
fallen through. It gave one an impression that some 
horrible catastrophe had happened, — that some modern 
Cities of the Plain had been overwhelmed, and had so 
lately sunk amid flames into the bowels of the earth 
that the smoke of their ruins was still ascending 
through white heaps of smoldering ashes. 

Although the Lower Basin can in no way compete 
with the Upper in interest, yet there are a great many 
springs and geysers within its limits presenting an 
infinite variety of structure, form, appearance, and 
size; some small, some large, meriting almost to be 
called little lakes, and containing vast volumes of boil- 
ing water; others mere cracks or fissures in the sur- 
face, occasionally ejecting air or liquid, like the diminu- 
tive puffing-holes one meets with on the seashore. 

Occasionally the deposit is composed of almost pure 



224 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

silica; sometimes the principal ingredient is iron; more 
frequently it consists of iron and silica together, mixed 
in some cases with sulphur also. 

These three substances are found combined in various 
degrees; and upon their presence or absence, and upon 
the relative proportion of one to the other, depends the 
variety of coloring which in most of the springs is 
extremely beautiful. 

The lips, rims, and sides of the orifices and craters, 
and the bottoms of the pools and channels through 
which the water overflows, assume many different 
colors, and are adorned with a great variety of artistic- 
like work. The general hue is that of rich cream, and 
the most usual forms of ornamentation are lace-like 
fabrics and edgings of bead-work, very delicate and 
graceful. Frequently, however, the ornamentation 
takes a larger shape and assumes a spongy appearance, 
and the sides and bottom of the pool will be seen 
covered with kidney-shaped or cauliflower-like ex- 
crescences. When the temperature of the water is 
low, it is often filled with a curious gelatinous material, 
apparently some form of vegetable matter decomposed, 
and partially filled with mineral deposit. This sub- 
stance becomes light and friable when dried by exposure 
to the sun. 

In some ponds the water is very blue; in others it 
has the green tint of a beryl. I cannot account for the 
difference in color. 

There are six springs in this basin which periodically 
throw water to a height of about thirty feet, and may 
therefore be denominated geysers ; but there is only one 
(which is situated at the south end of the plain) that 
can compare in size and power with the geysers of the 



THE GEYSERS 225 

Upper Basin. We saw it from a distance spouting. 
The stream and cloud were voluminous, and rose to a 
great height; but we were not near enough to judge 
accurately of the elevation or size of the column of 
water ejected from it. 

A spring which I recognized as the thud spring of 
Professor Hayden is the largest in this group. It has 
three orifices, all of which are generally very active; 
and it explodes periodically, making a dull suppressed 
thud ; but it does not throw the water to any consider- 
able distance. 

Its basin measures eighteen by sixteen feet, and 
varies from eight to thirteen feet in depth, not count- 
ing of course the orifices, which are of unknown depth. 

There is one rather peculiar specimen. It consists 
of a large basin filled with clear water, with a distinct 
crater in the center, just rising above the surface, which 
also is full of water; it resembles a little coral reef in 
the ocean. The water is driven up forty or fifty feet 
from the inner basin, the aperture of which must be 
much narrower at the bottom than at the top, for the 
ascending column slopes outward ; and, having attained 
its maximum height, it droops over very gracefully like 
the fronds of a palm tree and falls back into the outer 
reservoir. 

There is also in the neighborhood a fine example of 
a mud spring. It contains twenty or thirty puffs, ris- 
ing continually like great blisters a foot or two above 
the surface, which, bursting with a smothered thud, 
scatter the mud around. 

These mud springs and cauldrons form the comic 
part of the entertainment. There is something very 
ludicrous about them. They fuss and fume and 



226 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

splutter and spit in such a rage about nothing, and 
with such small results, and are withal so dirty and 
undignified, that one feels quite inclined to laugh at 
them. 

Very different in appearance to them are the con- 
stantly occurring pools, twenty or thirty feet in diam- 
eter, very deep, and filled with the most pellucid water. 
In the center is generally found a funnel-shaped aper- 
ture, descending to goodness knows where, contrasting 
strongly in its black profundity with the sides which 
rise from it, richly colored, and beautifully fretted 
with lace-like work. 

The rim is usually molded into a series of scallop- 
shell-like curves, and the edges of the scallops are fre- 
quently adorned with rows of pearly flint nodules very 
pretty to see. Some of these are small, others as large 
as a walnut. Though these nodules have no more 
luster than very dull opaque pearls, which they some- 
what resemble, yet they are so regular in size and in 
order of position that they form a very pretty finish 
round the circumference of the ponds. 

Some springs deposit a very fine-grained black 
powder; and in the lukewarm streams grows a vigor- 
ous, vividly green crop of confervae. 

On the south side of the plain, extending into the 
mountains, is a fine though not at present very active 
group, the water from which, overflowing and running 
down a series of steps, forms numerous little cascades 
of a few inches in height, separated by brightly-colored 
ornamented pools. 

The pine trees in the neighborhood of the springs 
look unutterably sad — very pictures of despair. Strip- 
ped of every vestige of bark or leaves, encrusted with a 



THE GEYSERS 227 

coating of white silica, they stand, mutely appealing 
with outstretched arms against their forlorn condition, 
like so many vegetable Lot's wives. 

That old springs are constantly dying out and new 
ones bursting forth is evident. The remains of extinct 
ones are met with at every step; and the pine trees 
standing near springs in full activity, coated already 
with deposit but not yet completely destroyed, show 
that such springs must be of very recent origin. 
Numerous bare patches in the forest indicate where 
craters or springs formerly existed, and in many little 
lakes and ponds are buried the remains of geysers also 
deceased. 

Professor Hayden enumerates a great number of 
geysers — flowing or spouting springs — and mud vol- 
canoes in this basin, and says that he has not mentioned 
more than half of them. 

The Fire Hole River is continually receiving con- 
tributions of hot water from innumerable little rills, 
and in this basin it embraces its principal tributary — a 
small stream heading in a tiny lake in the woods, and 
having a very pretty miniature cascade 140 feet in 
height. It has been called Fairy Fall Creek, and the 
cascade is christened Fairy Falls. 

This creek enters the Fire Hole at the lower end 
of the basin. From its mouth to the mouth of Iron 
Spring Creek, which enters at the lower margin of 
the Upper Geyser Basin, the distance is five or six 
miles as the crow flies. Between the two points lies a 
large group of springs which cannot well be included 
in either system, and they have consequently been called 
the Half-way Springs. There is nothing very pe- 
culiar or worthy of notice about them. In fact, the 



228 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

springs, though chemically varying very much one 
from another, and of course differing widely in size 
and shape, are yet in their general characteristics so 
much alike that, unless actual analysis is contemplated, 
when one good example of each peculiar sort has been 
seen and studied, the others may well be taken for 
granted. 

From where we entered the Lower Geyser Basin to 
where we encamped at the Castle Geyser is about ten 
or twelve miles, and over more extraordinary miles I 
have never traveled. The journey is suggestive of 
traveling in, or at any rate towards, and very close to, 
the infernal regions. The trail runs for the most part 
along the Fire Hole River, the water of which is 
warm, and apparently much appreciated in cold 
weather by flocks of geese and ducks. It is fed by 
numerous little streams, the beds and sides of which 
are brightly colored, and so variegated that they present 
sometimes an appearance almost of rough mosaic. In 
some the water is very hot, hot enough to make the 
mules hop when they tread in it; in others it is com- 
paratively cool varying in temperature according to 
the distance the water has run from the boiling source. 

The streams and river are lined with very dense 
green vegetation. The sides of the river, in fact, the 
whole face of the country, is honeycombed and pitted 
with springs, ponds, and mud-pots; furrowed with 
boiling streams, gashed with fissures, and gaping with 
chasms from which issue hollow rumblings, as if great 
stones were rolling round and round, or fierce, angry 
snarls and roars. 

The ground sounds hollow under foot. The trail 
winds in and out among holes that puff sulphur fumes 



THE GEYSERS 229 

or squirt water at you; by great caverns that rever- 
berate hideously, and yawn to swallow you up, horse 
and all; crosses boiling streams which flow over beds 
composed of a hard crust, colored yellow, green, and 
red, and skirted by great cisterns of boiling, bubbling, 
seething water. The crust feels as if it might break 
through at any moment and drop you into fire and 
flames beneath, and the animals tread gingerly upon it. 
You pass a translucent, lovely pool, and are nearly 
pitched into its hot azure depths by your mule, which 
violently shies at a white puff of steam maliciously spat 
into its face through a minute fissure in the path. 
You must needs examine into that ragged-mouthed 
cavern, and start back with more agility than grace to 
escape from a sudden flood of hot water, which spite- 
fully and without warning gurgles out and wets you 
through. The air is full of subdued, strange noises; 
distant grumblings as of dissatisfied ghosts, faint 
shrieks, satirical groans, and subterranean laughter; as 
if the imprisoned devils, though exceedingly uncom- 
fortable, were not beyond being amused at seeing a 
fresh victim approach. You fancy you can hear the 
rattle of the loom, the whirl of wheels, the clang and 
clatter of machinery ; and the impression is borne upon 
the mind that you are in the manufacturing depart- 
ment of Inferno, where the skilled hands and artisans 
doomed to hard labor are employed. I can compare 
it only to one's feelings in an iron foundry, where one 
expects every moment to step on a piece of hot iron, 
to be run through the stomach by a bar of white glow- 
ing metal, to be mistaken for a pig and cast headlong 
into a furnace, or to be in some other way burned, 
scalded, and damaged. 



230 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

It is dangerous ground; I have not heard of any 
accident up to the present time; no modern Koran, 
Dathan, and Abiram as yet have been engulfed alive; 
but the visits to these regions have been, like those of 
angels, few and far between; and I daresay, when 
they become more numerous, we shall hear of some 
premature roastings, and of some poor wretches boiled 
before their time. 

Near the trail, and situated in the woods, is another 
large mud spring. I call it spring for want of a better 
word, for there is really no spring about it. It consists 
of a basin measuring 40 by 30 feet, full of mud, which 
is constantly rising in puffs and exploding. This mud 
varies very much in color at different times. 

On the top of a little hill of flinty deposit near the 
river is one very large spring, nearly circular in shape, 
and measuring 150 feet in diameter. The water, boil- 
ing in the center and overflowing all round, has pro- 
duced a series of perfectly-formed concentric steps a 
few inches in height. The water is perfectly clear, 
and the ornamentation very pretty. Quite close to the 
river is another still larger cistern, 250 feet in diameter. 
The sides are about twenty feet high, and it is full of 
water in a state of violent ebullition, and throwing off 
a great quantity of steam. 

Late in the afternoon it began to rain heavily, and, 
amid the usual discomforts attending on a wet camp, 
we pitched our tents in a small grove of trees close to 
the Castle Geyser. This geyser is situated on an ir- 
regular platform of deposit, measuring 100 feet in 
length by 70 feet in diameter, and, at the center, being 
three feet above the level of the plain. About the 
middle of this platform rises the active chimney, a 



THE GEYSERS 231 

cone of 1 1 feet 1 1 inches in height, having an aperture 
three feet in diameter, almost circular in form, and 
measuring 120 feet in circumference at the base, and 
60 feet at the top. It does not taper gradually, nor 
is the exterior surface smooth; but it is irregular in 
contour, forming a series of rough steps by which you 
can climb to the top. The lips and interior of the 
funnel are lined with large globular, orange-colored 
masses. 

Quite close to the crater are two pools simmering 
and bubbling, which share in the excitement consequent 
on an eruption, becoming dry when the Castle is in 
operation. 

There is also a third very lovely pool, about 30 
feet in diameter and 60 feet deep, with an aperture at 
the bottom that looks so profound that you might 
almost fancy it went right through to the other side. 
The inner lining is of perfectly pure white silica, and 
the edges are scalloped and ornamented with the usual 
pearl-like moldings. But the most noticeable thing 
about it is the perfect purity and transparency of the 
water, which is so still, so blue, so clear, that you 
scarcely know where the surface is, can hardly tell 
which is air and which is water; indeed, you in- 
voluntarily stoop and plunge your hand into it to con- 
vince yourself that that translucent element is in reality 
water. Many of my readers may have seen on the 
western shores of Scotland or Ireland, on some fine 
summer's day when the Atlantic dozes in the warm 
sun, clear, deep pools left by the receding tide. 
Beautiful they are with the rich golden browns of the 
sea-rack that streams upwards to the light ; the delicate 
pinks and greens of the seaweed that fringes the rim; 



232 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

the bright or subdued coloring of anemones, sea-urchins, 
and shells. Somewhat like them, but much more per- 
fect in shape, variety, and intensity of coloring, and 
above all in purity, are these fresh-water pools. 

When we arrived the Castle was placidly smoking. 
Far down in the depths of the funnel an indistinct 
rumbling could be heard ; but it seemed quite inactive. 
However, a couple of men, belonging to another party, 
who had been there some days, told us that they ex- 
pected it to spout about eleven at night; so we set to 
work to make ourselves comfortable in camp. 

Scarcely had we got things fixed and supper under 
way, when a yell from Boteler, "He's going to 
spout!" caused us to drop teapot and pannikin, and 
tumble out of the tent in half no time. 

It was getting dark, but there was quite enough light 
to see that the fit was upon the imprisoned monster. 
We ran upon the platform, close to the crater, but 
were very soon driven from that position and forced 
to look on humbly from a distance. 

Far down in his bowels a fearful commotion was 
going on; we could hear a great noise — a rumbling as 
of thousands of tons of stones rolling round and round, 
piling up in heaps and rattling down again, mingled 
with the lashing of the water against the sides as it 
surged up the funnel and fell again in spray. Louder 
and louder grew the disturbance, till with a sudden 
qualm he would heave out a few tons of water and 
obtain momentary relief. After a few premonitory 
heaves had warned us to remove to a little distance, 
the symptoms became rapidly worse; the row and the 
racket increased in intensity; the monster's throes be- 
came more and more violent ; the earth trembled at his 



THE GEYSERS 233 

rage; and finally, with a mighty spasm, he hurled into 
the air a great column of water. 

I should say that this column reached at its highest 
point of elevation an altitude of 250 feet. The spray 
and steam were driven through it up to a much greater 
elevation, and then floated upward as a dense cloud to 
any distance. The operation was not continuous, but 
consisted of strong, distinct pulsations, occurring at a 
maximum rate of seventy per minute ; having a general 
tendency to increase gradually in vigor and rapidity of 
utterance until the greatest development of strength 
was attained, and then sinking again by degrees. But 
the increase and subsidence were not uniform or 
regular; the jets arose, getting stronger and stronger 
at every pulsation for ten or twelve strokes, until the 
effort would culminate in three impulses of unusual 
power. 

The column of water appeared quite perpendicular, 
and was constantly ascending, for long before one jet 
had attained its greatest elevation, another had been 
forced through the aperture; but in the column the 
different efforts were plainly visible. The volume of 
water ejected must have been prodigious; the spray 
descended in heavy rain over a large area, and torrents 
of hot water six or eight inches deep poured down the 
sloping platform. 

The noise of the eruption was indescribable. I 
know of but one simile drawn from Nature that con- 
veys the smallest impression of it, and even then the 
impression is quite inadequate to illustrate the subject. 
Have you ever sat upon the very verge of a steep sea- 
cliff in a gale? I don't mean one of your yachtsman's 
breezes, but a real bona fide full winter's gale of wind, 



234 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

roaring from the northwest over leagues and leagues of 
white Atlantic, and striking full against the cliff-face. 
If you have, you will know that there is at the edge a 
little space of complete calm, where the sea-pinks are 
scarcely stirred, and where you can sit and listen to 
the awful riot around you, untouched by it. If you 
will sit there, and are unaccustomed to such a scene, 
you will be half deafened and quite frightened by the 
strife of wind and rock and sea. Hear with what 
tremendous blows the gale strikes against the bold 
front of cliff and flies hoarsely howling with rage 
just over your head ! Listen to its vicious scream, as, 
baffled, it beats against the crags, and shrieks shrilly 
round some jutting rock! The ground seems to shake 
under the shock and thunder of the breakers against 
its base; and under all you will note the continuous 
hollow roar of the pebble bank crumbling to the sea 
with each receding wave. To all these sounds of ele- 
mental war add the shrieking of the steam-pipes of 
many steamers blowing off, and you will have some 
idea of an eruption of the Castle. 

Or, if yoy don't know much about the sea, you may 
imagine a gigantic pot boiling madly with a thunder- 
storm in its stomach, and half full of great stones roll- 
ing and knocking about against its reverberating sides. 
Taken with the above-mentioned steam-pipe accom- 
paniment, which is indispensable, this may convey a 
faint idea of the noise. 

The total display lasted about an hour. Water was 
ejected for twenty minutes, and was then succeeded by 
steam, which was driven out with much violence and 
in great quantities. Like the water, it was expelled 
in regular beats, increasing in rapidity as the jet de- 



THE GEYSERS 235 

creased in strength until the pulsations merged into 
one continuous hoarse roar, which gradually but fit- 
fully subsided, and the exhausted geyser sank back into 
complete repose. 

To enjoy such a sight as this, a man should have 
time to get a little accustomed to it, for the display of 
such stupendous force exhibited in such an unusual 
manner is, to say the least of it, startling. 

In our case, the grandeur and awfulness of the scene 
were intensified by the darkness, for before the eruption 
ceased night had fallen, and obscurity enshrouding 
the plain rendered even common objects unnatural 
and strange. From out a neighboring vent white 
puffs of steam were forced, which, bending forward in 
the light breeze, crept slowly past the mound, looking 
in the dark like sheeted ghosts stooping under the 
burden of their crimes. The gray plain, and the naked 
pines, stretching out their bared arms menacingly like 
warning spirits, showed ghastly in the half-light; and 
with these accompaniments of darkness and novelty, 
and amid a confused noise and concussion of the atmos- 
phere, and shocks and tremblings of the earth, this 
great geyser was exhibiting a spectacle entirely new 
and strange to all of us except one of the party. 

We considered ourselves very lucky to have so soon 
seen one of the principal geysers in action; and damp 
but happy we went to bed. 

The next morning broke very dull. Dense columns 
of steam rose heavily from innumerable vents into the 
still morning atmosphere. The air was filled with 
smothered indistinct noises, emanating from the various 
springs and smaller geysers. 

After breakfast we walked up to the head of the 



236 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

valley and, taking our stand upon the mound of Old 
Faithful, took a general survey of the basin. Old 
Faithful is situated at the extreme south end of the 
valley, and commands a good view of the whole plain. 

The morning was still very close and heavy, but 
occasionally glimpses of sun burst through the thin fog, 
and lit up the bare ugliness of the plain. The general 
appearance of the surface is a dingy white, but parts 
of it are colored yellowish brown by the jelly-like mud 
or muddy jelly that I have before mentioned as existing 
in and around many of the pools. A few grey patches 
of withered grass are scattered about. 

Before us stretched out this plain, broken with a few 
groves of growing pines, and dotted here and there 
with dead dilapidated-looking trees, naked or clothed 
in a white mantle of silica. From this abode of deso- 
lation the trees seemed to stand aloof, fearing to share 
the fate of their companions already caught and turned 
into stone. Here and there small colonies, pushed 
forward by the dense population behind them, intruded 
somewhat on the plain; but, as a rule, the forest ap- 
peared reluctant to approach the edge. All around, 
but a little in the background, rose the thick timber, 
broken by a few gaps and open spaces which indicate 
where springs or geysers, active or extinct, are situated. 
From some half-dozen of these places columns of steam 
were ascending straight up in the still air. 

Far down the valley, ejected by some great geyser in 
operation, dense clouds were bulging upwards to a 
height of 1,000, or perhaps 2,000 feet, and were 
gradually moving southward. Through this plain or 
valley, flowing in a southeast and northwest direction, 
runs the Fire Hole River, which drains into the 



THE GEYSERS 237 

Madison the vast quantities of boiling water thrown 
to the surface. It is totally unlike any other river 
that I have ever seen. Its bed and banks, entirely 
composed of hot spring deposit, are honeycombed, split 
up and scooped out all over by geysers, springs and 
pools, simmering, murmuring, gurgling, grumbling, 
spitting, snarling, steaming, hissing, exploding, boiling, 
and roaring — in short, making every sort of extraor- 
dinary noise. Some grumbled quietly along, as if 
enjoying themselves pretty well; breaking out occa- 
sionally into a sort of gurgling, explosive laughter. 
Others, after being quite quiet for a long time, got 
into a violent rage, spat and snarled, or hissed like 
angry geese. They were of all sizes and descriptions, 
varying from minute vents, not bigger than a quill, to 
great tanks of boiling water. The course of the river 
is very straight, and it appeared somewhat like a steam-* 
ing canal cut through a country entirely composed 
of limekilns, slagheaps, and the refuse of old smelting 
works. 

Old Faithful is so called because he plays regularly 
every three-quarters of an hour. The crater is quite 
low, and contains an orifice, which is in fact only the 
widening of a crack, which extends across the whole 
mound, and through which, when the geyser is excited, 
the steam is driven out and the air sucked in again, 
as happens in puffing-holes by the sea when a wave 
entering the cavern below expels the air with violence 
and noise, which presently rushes in again to fill the 
vacuum left by the water as it goes out. The mound 
on which the chimney stands is 1 1 feet 1 1 inches high, 
215 feet by 145 at the base, and 54 feet by 20 at the 
top. It is formed of a series of concentric layers or 



238 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

steps of deposit, generally rather thin, raised above 
each other by little ledges, varying from a foot to an 
inch or so in height. The summit is covered with the 
most beautiful little pools, several feet deep, in which 
wandering trappers and an occasional traveler have 
dropped fragments of cream-colored silicate bearing 
their names in pencil on them — a reprehensible practice 
and one to be abhorred, but which, in the present case, 
serves to demonstrate admirably the great clearness of 
the water. 

For about half an hour Old Faithful remains quiet, 
making a comfortable, soothing, simmering sort of noise 
in his inside. After a little he gets uneasy, bubbling 
up occasionally to the mouth and subsiding again. 
Every spasm becomes more powerful, till with a con- 
vulsive and mighty roar up comes the water in a great 
column. He throws it to a height of from 100 to 150 
feet for the space of about five minutes, during which 
time he keeps the top of the column almost at one level ; 
and from numerous points in the crack which traverses 
the mound small jets and spurts of water are driven 
out. 

Old Faithful is not to be compared with the Castle ; 
but it is a very fine geyser. When in operation, it dis- 
plays a great amount of vigor ; and it presents unusual 
facilities for observation, for, if a man does not object 
to standing up to his ankles in water — and, if he does, 
he had better remain at home — he can, by keeping to 
windward on a breezy day, stand within a foot or two 
of the orifice during the period of eruption. 

Every geyser in this group has a different form and 
appearance, is endowed with different degrees of 
strength, and throws the water in different ways to 



THE GEYSERS 239 

various heights; yet the same general description is 
applicable to them all; and, as it is impossible for me 
to convey anything but a very feeble impression of the 
reality, it would be only wearisome were I to try and 
describe more than one eruption. 

Looking down the river from the summit of Old 
Faithful, that is to say, towards the northwest, the 
most noticeable craters on the right bank are the Bee 
Hive and the Giantess. The name of the former suf- 
ficiently indicates its shape. It has a small cone only 
3 feet high and 5 feet in diameter at the base, the 
orifice measuring 24 by 36^2 inches. I did not see it 
in active operation. Professor Hayden describes it as 
throwing a column of water of the size of the aperture 
to a height of 219 feet for eighteen minutes, and says 
that the velocity of the water is such that the column 
is not deflected more than four or five degrees out of 
the perpendicular. No water, he adds, falls back 
from this geyser, but the whole mass appears to be 
driven up into fine spray or steam, which is carried 
away as cloud or else is diffused imperceptibly into the 
atmosphere. 

A little to the back of the Bee Hive the Giantess is 
situated. The crater in this case consists of a very 
deep opening of considerable width at the surface, and 
narrowing below. One of the pipes that convey the 
water and steam must be very small, for the strongest 
jets, those which are driven to the great height of 250 
feet at least, through a larger mass of water which 
rises only 50 or 60 feet, are, comparatively speaking, 
small. The large opening is 32 feet by 23 feet 6 
inches across, and 63 feet in depth, and is filled with 
water of a deep, clear, green shade. It is situated on 



240 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

the summit of a gently sloping mound of geyserite, 
about 200 yards in diameter at the base. 

On the other side of the river, that is to say, on 
the left bank, the first geyser you come to is the Castle, 
already described. About half a mile below that is 
the Giant, a very grand, but rather aged and worn- 
out geyser. The crater is a very large rugged chim- 
ney about 10 feet in height, nearly circular, being 25 
by 24 feet in diameter at its base, and 8 feet at the 
top. The platform on which it stands is nearly 400 
yards in circumference, and the principal aperture is 
5 feet in diameter. The wall of the chimney is con- 
siderably crumbled and decayed, and on one side is 
completely broken through. The orifice also is 
broken into from the outside in two places, which must 
largely spoil the appearance of the jet. There are 
three pools of boiling water on the mound, close to the 
crater; and only a few yards away a new and very 
active geyser, commonly called Young Faithful, has 
broken out. He has not been many years in existence, 
and, full of young life and energy, he blows off steam 
continuously and furiously. I threw him some stones, 
an attention which he rather seemed to appreciate, for 
he rolled them about in his throat and did not reject 
them until he had ground them to powder. He is in- 
creasing year by year visibly in strength; and, as it 
appears that the old Giant is at the same time getting 
feebler, it is probable that the youthful exuberance of 
the son is obtained at the expense of the father. At 
present Young Faithful is in operation all the time. 
As he gets older he will no doubt find out, with the 
other geysers, that once in twenty-four hours is quite 
sufficient. 



THE GEYSERS 241 

I was fortunate enough to see the Giant play, but I 
was not sufficiently near to form anything like an 
accurate estimate of the quantity of water cast up, or 
of the height to which it was thrown. The volume of 
water appeared immense, and huge clouds of steam 
arose from it. The eruption lasted only a few min- 
utes; which is strange, as Professor Hayden describes 
it as playing for an hour and twenty minutes, and 
throwing a column of water to a height of 140 feet. 
Lieutenant Doane affirms that it threw water from 90 
to 200 feet (an estimate which is very liberal in its 
margin) for three hours and a half; and Mr. Lang- 
ford says that it threw a jet of five feet in diameter 
140 feet high. 

About a quarter of a mile west of the Giant are 
situated four large basins, the biggest being about 
thirty feet in circumference. They may be said to be 
within the same rim, though there is scarcely any 
appreciable rise above the general level of the plain. 
The ground all round them is quite soft and spongy, 
composed of a brownish yellow material, which, when 
dry, becomes light and brittle, and somewhat resembles 
a fungus. The surface is covered with little bubbling 
vents, about the size of a quill. In the largest basin 
are two apertures, and by one or both of these the 
water is constantly heaved up in a great rounded mass, 
like a huge bubble. The different basins are not in 
connection with each other. I was fortunate enough 
to see one of them in a state of great activity, but I 
was at some distance ; and, though I made all possible 
haste, the eruption, which only lasted a few minutes, 
had ceased before I arrived at the spot. The volume 
of water ejected appeared enormous, and I judged the 



242 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

height of the jet to be about 150 feet. I supposed this 
to be the Grand Geyser, but I see that Professor Hay- 
den locates it at the other side of the river. 

Farther back, and near the edge of the forest, are 
the remains of a great geyser, now deceased, or nearly 
so. He has buried himself in a steep mound 70 or 80 
feet high, and about 200 feet in diameter at the base. 
From the summit a little smoke was still exhaling, but 
there were no signs of a recent eruption. 

To the southwest are two large geysers quite in- 
active. 

In the rear of the Castle is a very old fellow, the 
great-grandfather, I should say, of all the geysers in the 
place. He is now very near his end, but during his 
active life he has made a deposit covering at least two 
acres of ground. In the center of this ground are three 
apertures, brimming over with perfectly clear water. 
They are very deep. Two of them are perfectly still, 
and do not betray the slightest sign of animation, nor 
is there any appearance in them of an aperture. The 
third is feebly bubbling in a foolish driveling sort of 
way, like an old man in his dotage muttering and 
dreaming of former and better days, thinking what a 
grand old geyser he was, and how he had in his time 
thrown more water higher and further and with more 
fuss, and made more noise, and been generally livelier 
than any of the present degenerate age; all of which, 
to judge by his aspect, may be quite true. 

Besides those already enumerated are many other 
geysers of great interest and importance, well worthy of 
a visit and meriting description but the description of 
one must resemble that of another; and I wish, if pos- 
sible, to avoid the crime of prolixity. The principal of 



THE GEYSERS 243 

these are the Grotto, the Fan Geyser, the Riverside 
Geyser, the Saw Mills, the Turban, and the Grand 
Geyser. 

The borders of the Fire Hole River and its confluent, 
Iron Spring Creek, and a great portion of the plain 
enclosed by these two streams, are dotted in all direc- 
tions by mud ponds, solfataras, fumaroles, warm pools, 
boiling springs, and the remains of many extinct geysers 
of considerable size. 

To my mind, by far the most beautiful objects are 
the still, deep, quiet wells. They are perfectly lovely. 

Imagine a circular basin of, say, about 15 or 20 feet 
across, and 50 or 60 feet in depth, the ground sur- 
rounding it sloping very gently back from the brink in 
little concentric steps, varying perhaps a quarter of an 
inch to three or four inches in height at a time. The 
edges of these steps are curved into a series of semi- 
arches, and adorned with moldings of pearly beads, 
ranging in color from a dull white to a coral pink. 
The rim of the basin is convoluted and gathered in, into 
a system of irregular curves, scalloped and beaded. 
The interior is of a most delicately rich cream color, in- 
tensified in places to rose; and over portions of it is 
spread a fine network of lace-like fabric. Deeper down 
the ornamentation becomes larger, and the sides are 
composed of rounded sponge-like masses. The basin is 
filled to the brim with water, more transparent than 
anything you can imagine, and deeply blue. As the 
sun rising or sinking strikes at a greater or smaller 
angle the surface of the water, its rays, refracted more 
or less obliquely by the resolving element, give a con- 
stantly varying but ever lustrous appearance to the in- 
terior ornamentations and colorings of the pool that 



244 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

baffles all attempts at description. One never tires of 
looking at these fairy lakes, for though language fails 
to convey the impression of variety, and the character 
of sameness would appear to be inseparable from them, 
yet it is not so at all; on the contrary, a constant and 
beautiful change is going on at every succeeding 
moment of the day. 

In the measurements I have given above, I do not 
pretend to accuracy. I have merely guessed at them, 
except in such cases as I have found mentioned in 
Professor Hayden's reports. There is a great discrep- 
ancy of opinion among the several scientific gentlemen 
who have visited this locality as to the height to which 
the different geysers throw the water, and also as to 
the duration of the eruptions. This is attributable, I 
daresay, chiefly to the great difficulty of distinguishing 
exactly the point where the water ends and the fine 
spray or steam commences ; also of deciding up to what 
height the steam is propelled, and where it commences 
merely to ascend. The geysers, moreover, must vary 
far more than is generally supposed, both in the amount 
of force exhibited, in the length of the eruption, and 
in the interval between the displays. ... 



CHAPTER X 

THE KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 

WE left this extraordinary district with great re- 
gret : fain would we have tarried longer in it. 
An opportunity for exploration such as none 
of us had ever before enjoyed was most temptingly dis- 
played, and very gladly would we have availed our- 
selves of it. Four years ago the white world knew 
absolutely nothing of the country we were leaving. 
The few legends of Indian tribes, and the vague rumors 
of hunters that occasionally came to the surface and 
were wafted out from the wilderness to the ears of 
civilized men, were entirely disbelieved or were looked 
upon as fables built on the very smallest foundation of 
truth; and its wonders were covered with a mystery 
as profound as that which broods over the sources of 
the Nile. And even now scarcely anything is known 
about it. A few parties go in from Virginia City and 
out at Bozeman, all following the same trail, examining 
the same objects, halting at the same places. They 
never stray any distance from the usual route, and 
there are hundreds of valleys into which no human 
foot has ever burst, thousands of square miles of forest 
whose depths have never yet been penetrated by the 
eye of man. 

It is extremely improbable that the area of volcanic 
activity is confined to the limited space occupied by the 
245 



246 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

two Geyser Basins, and it is very possible that other 
depressions may be found containing springs and geysers 
as great as, or even more important than, those I have 
attempted to describe. The scenery is beautiful, the 
climate most healthy ; game is abundant, and every lake 
and river teems with trout. It is a district afford- 
ing infinite scope to the tourist in quest of novelty, the 
hunter, or the scientific traveler. Compared with other 
districts equally prolific in big game, it enjoys a wonder- 
ful immunity from that great bugbear of the hunter, 
the hostile redskin. It is true that on the way into the 
Upper Yellowstone country, and down anywhere in 
the valleys that lead out upon the plains, it would be 
necessary at certain times to keep a good lookout for 
Indians, for the Sioux come up occasionally out of the 
boundless wilderness of their prairies, looking after the 
horses of the settlers, or of the Crows, and lurk for 
weeks about the passes; but they dare not penetrate 
far into the mountains ; and, terrified at the strange 
sights and sounds therein, all Indians now carefully 
avoid the uncanny precincts of "Wonderland." A 
few wretched Sheep-eaters are said to linger in the 
fastnesses of the mountains about Clarke's Fork; but 
their existence is very doubtful ; at any rate, they must 
be a harmless, timid race. The traveler has to keep, 
a sharper lookout for white horse-thieves than for red- 
skin 'obbers, and with ordinary precaution the country 
can be traversed in perfect safety. 

The stock of information concerning it as yet ac- 
quired is extremely small, and, with the exception oi 
the compilations of the various Government expedi- 
tions, the accounts are untrustworthy and inaccurate. 
Very anxious were we to add our mite to the general 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 247 

fund in the way of something newly discovered and 
observed ; but winter was drawing nigh, and, as we had 
no mind to be blocked in to the southward of Mount 
Washburne, we returned reluctantly to our camp. 

It had been our intention to go from the Fire Hole 
Basin down the Madison to Virginia City, thus making 
a round trip of it, and obviating the necessity of pass- 
ing over the same ground twice; but, owing to our 
stock being so poor and in such bad condition, we were 
compelled to abandon this idea, and take the back 
track home; for though the distance from the Geysers 
to Virginia City is shorter than that to Fort Ellis, we 
knew that by adopting the latter route we could, if 
necessary, get fresh animals at Boteler's. We found 
our camp all right, so far as the bipeds were concerned, 
except that they were hard up for food, for the country 
had produced no game ; but they had succeeded in 
losing a mule — an accident that was rather serious, for 
by it one of the party was dismounted. 

The day after our return we packed up and marched 
to Tower Falls, arriving there many hours after dark. 
We could not for a long time find any way of getting 
down to the creek, which rushed foaming beneath, and 
had much difficulty in selecting a spot suitable for a 
camp. 

Boteler and I had ridden ahead rapidly with the 
purpose of ascending Mount Washburne in the event 
of the evening giving promise of a clear view. The 
day turned out cloudy, and we hesitated about the 
ascent ; but most fortunate was it that we executed our 
resolution, for we were rewarded with a magnificent 
sight. We got to the top with about an hour's light 
by sun. The atmosphere was very transparent, though 



248 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

the day was by no means fine. Heavy masses of vapor 
were clinging to the higher peaks, streaming out from 
their summits in long ragged whifts or encircling their 
sides; and dense clouds slowly drifting occasionally 
obscured the sun. Great splinters of light darting 
through ragged -edged rifts in the clouds struck down- 
ward, slanting to the earth, or, spreading out through 
some larger opening in straight divergent lines of 
brilliancy, illuminated the landscape. Huge masses of 
cumulus blazed round their storm-foreboding edges 
with intense white light; piles of black threatening 
clouds rolled themselves in fantastic shapes above the 
horizon. In the distance little fragments of rainbow 
— wind-dogs, as sailors call them — tipped the verge of 
the inky blackness of some passing rain-storm that swept 
across the sky. Everything betokened that a tempest 
was at hand, and the sky, vexed and angry, looked 
magnificent in its wrath. At one moment the earth 
was all shadow; then a sun-burst would strike a patch 
of yellow prairie or belt of trees and gild the earth 
with golden glory; or it would brush across it a 
momentary streak of vivid green, and slowly moving 
would sparkle for an instant like a diamond on some 
hidden lake, and passing over the landscape fade in 
the distance and vanish away. The smallest out- 
lines on the horizon were clearly defined, and the 
whole middle distance was shifting and changing in 
broad bands of light and shade. 

On such a day as this, when the sky is overcast, and 
the air unnaturally clear foretells a coming storm, far 
finer effects are enjoyed than can be seen under the 
cloudless heavens that are so usual in these latitudes. 

There is no difficulty in reaching the top of Mount 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 249 

Washburne. We rode to within five or six hundred 
yards of the crag that forms the summit, from which 
the view is quite unique. Turn in what direction it 
may, the eye wanders over a chaotic mass of mountains, 
and vainly seeks some distinct central object on which 
to light, until, wearied and bewildered with such in- 
finite disorder, it thankfully rests upon the rolling 
billows of forest which afford momentary relief, but 
soon in their turn become irksome from their vast 
monotony. 

Let us examine the panorama somewhat in detail. 
Stand by me with your face to the north. Right before 
us lies the valley of the Yellowstone, golden in the 
slanting rays of the setting sun, and beyond it are the 
great upheaved masses that form its borders. Most 
noticeable for beauty of outline, cutting clear and sharp 
against a pale green patch of sky, is Emigrants Peak, 
a fine feature in a noble group of mountains. A good 
deal nearer, but almost in the same line, rises the bold 
promontory that forms one of the portals of the third 
canon, standing out tall and menacing as though warn- 
ing men not to attempt the gloomy gorges that it 
guards; and a little to the right of it gapes the grim 
chasm of Hell Roaring Creek. 

To the east is a vague and apparently orderless mass 
of peaks, tossed about in the wildest confusion, looking 
as if ranges originally elevated in some sort of decent 
order had been pressed inwards from the edges with 
irresistible force, and crumpled up towards the center; 
or resembling the waves of a rough sea in a tidal race, 
when, instead of running in regular billows, the water 
dashes up precipitously and unexpectedly in all direc- 
tions. In the foreground is a huge flat-topped moun- 



250 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

tain, bald and scarred, desolate in the extreme ; and be- 
hind it the notched, jagged horns of Index and Pilot 
Peaks pierce the clouds ; while far in the distance loom 
the dim outlines of the Big Horn range. 

Turning to the right we see the great snow-capped 
summits cradling the infant streamlets which form 
Clarke's Fork of the Yellowstone. From their rugged 
wild barrenness the eye falls abruptly, but gratefully, 
upon a scene of placid peacefulness rendered all the 
more striking by contrast. Washing the rough bases 
of the range with" its clear waters lies the lake, shining 
like a gem in the dark setting of the forest, dotted with 
islands, pierced by promontories, calm, unruffled, beauti- 
ful ; a goddess clasped in the mighty arms of the moun- 
tain. Still turning, the eye wanders over a vast 
plateau of undulating woods, broken here and there by 
open patches of gray or yellow prairie, formerly lake 
basins, for round the water and the places where water 
has once been the growth of timber forms an exact 
fringe. It then gazes in astonishment for a moment 
on the savage Tetons, looming huge and indistinct of 
outline in the blue evening mist, and roams over a 
boundless ocean of forest, extending from the southwest 
round to west, unbroken, unrelieved by a single peak, 
till it rests upon the Madison range, which, com- 
mencing nearly due west, extends far away into the 
realms of the mysterious north. A little nearer to us, 
and trending in the same direction, the Gallatin Moun- 
tains surge upwards till their peaks also fade away 
towards the dim distant northland. Just beneath our 
feet a heavily timbered valley opens out into a rolling 
upland prairie, spreading away on all sides towards the 
river, while to the south and east the Grand Canon 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 251 

cuts through the bases of two mountains. Although in 
reality distant, the chasm appears at hand, for from 
your commanding position you can partly pierce its 
awful interior, and almost fancy you can catch a 
glimpse of the white waters of the river foaming be- 
low you at a vast and unascertained depth. But no 
glancing eddy catches your eye; not even the faintest 
echo of the roar and tumult of the strife of river and 
of rock arises from the black profundity of that gulf. 

Tired with this excess of mountains, bewildered with 
peaks, smothered in forest, let the traveler rest awhile, 
and suffer his mind dreamily to wander in memory or 
imagination along the banks of those water-courses that 
rise around him. He will have in thought to travel 
through many a strange land. 

An interest far greater than that produced by mere 
scenic effects attaches to the naked crag on which he 
sits. That rock is the summit of a mountain which 
forms the culminating point of the ridge that rules the 
water-courses of the United States. Stretching out its 
arms between the streams, it seems to say to one "Run 
in this direction," and to another "Flow in that." It 
launches into life the river that forms the valley of the 
Mississippi, a vast and fertile region destined in the 
future to be one of the most populous places on earth. 
That rock is the keystone of the continent. It is the 
very crest of The Great Divide. 

From it has been traced out the geography of the 
country. The main divisions, the great centers of 
trade, together with the natural features that sway the 
fates of men and nations, radiate thence; and by a 
citizen of the United States the spot should be regarded 
as sacred ground. From it he can overlook the sources 



y 



252 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

of the Yellowstone, the Wind River, and the Missouri, 
and of the Snake and Green Rivers, principal tribu- 
taries the one of the Columbia, the other of the 
Colorado, 

These waters flow through every variety of climate, 
past the dwellings of savage hordes and civilized 
nations, through thousands of miles of unbroken soli- 
tude, and through the most populous haunts of mer- 
cantile mankind; now shaded by the great pine trees 
of the forest, again shadowed by tall factory chimneys ; 
there clear and undefiled from the hand of Nature, 
then turbid and contaminated by contact with man; 
and from Mount Washburne I believe that the head 
waters can be seen of mightier rivers — rivers passing 
through more populous cities, through the hunting- 
grounds of more wild tribes, through greater deserts, 
through countries more rankly fertile, through places 
more uncivilized and savage, by scenes stranger and 
more varied — than can be viewed from any other point 
on the surface of this earth. 

Impressed by the spectacle, I sat down upon a 
weather-beaten granite crag, and fell into a reverie. 

On the left hand, looking towards the north, spring 
three streams, the Gallatin, the Madison, and the 
Jefferson, forks of the largest river on the continent. 
After short separate courses they unite, and are called 
the Missouri; and there I in fancy launched my birch 
canoe. It would be scarcely necessary to paddle. 
Swiftly by the strong current we should be borne 
along until, while yet at a distance of many miles, the 
dim haze of spray and the confused roar of waters 
would warn us that we were nearing the Great Falls 
of the Missouri. I wonder how many people know 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 253 

that the river has any great falls at all. Before my 
visit to Montana all I had of it was an indistinct idea 
of its length, and a vague notion that the "mighty 
Missouri rolled down to the sea." But there they are, 
obstructing all further navigation, falls and rapids 
which in any better known country would be highly 
appreciated and thought a great deal of. The Mis- 
souri, even at the distance of over 3,000 miles from the 
sea, carries a great volume of water, perhaps three or 
four times as much as the Thames at Richmond. It 
varies in breadth considerably, sometimes contracting to 
300 yards, and spreading out elsewhere to nearly a 
quarter of a mile. The Great Falls consist of a series 
of cataracts and cascades, occupying some fifteen or 
twenty miles of the river's course. In one place, 
where the river is very broad, it is traversed by a level, 
straight-edged, perpendicular ridge of 50 feet in height, 
over which the water pours in a massive, unbroken 
sheet. The principal fall is about 80 feet in vertical 
height. For 400 yards above the brow the stream is 
compressed, and penned in by two converging sheer 
cliffs 100 feet in height, which contracts the channel to 
a breadth of not more than 100 yards. The ridge is 
not, in this case, uniform. For 80 or 100 yards from 
the left bank it shows an unbroken edge, over which 
the river plunges in a perpendicular fall; but for the 
remaining 200 yards it has given way, and forms a 
steep, broken, jagged slope, down which the current 
rushes, foaming, leaping, and dashing into clouds of 
spray. Between these two falls, and for a little dis- 
tance above and below them, the channel is constantly 
crossed by dykes more or less broken, forming pitches 
and rapids of from two to twenty feet in height. 



254 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Having made a portage of eighteen miles round these 
obstacles, let us again entrust ourselves to our fragile 
bark, and the river will carry us for a distance of 120 
miles through a wild and savage country, to where, near 
Fort Benton, it is swelled by a large tributary, the 
Marias, and turns suddenly to the east, forming the 
Great Bend. After that it passes through the Judith 
Basin, a land full of buffalo and other game ; its current 
navigable, when the waters are high, by steamers, taking 
stores and Indian merchandise to Benton, and carrying 
down costly furs from the great Northwest. Yet not 
many men drink of its muddy waters, except the Crows, 
Grosventres, Blackfeet, Assineboins, or Sioux, who 
hunt or make war along its banks. After a course in 
an easterly direction of about 250 miles it is joined by 
the Milk River, which flows from the northwest, hav- 
ing its source in the icy fastness of the Rocky Moun- 
tains in British territory, and traversing the hunting- 
grounds of Bloods, Blackfeet, Kristeneaux or Crees, and 
Assineboins or Stonies, as they are sometimes called; 
and a little further it is swelled by the current of the 
Yellowstone, which rises in the lovely lake below me. 
Here is situated another outpost of civilization, Fort 
Buford. 

All this time we shall have been gradually changing 
for the worse in respect of climate and scenery. If 
we are journeying in winter, the weather will have 
been turning colder and more stormy, as we left behind 
us the warm radiating masses of the mountains and the 
soft breezes from the Pacific. This deterioration is 
very remarkable; so great indeed is the climatic change 
that I have been told that war parties from the neigh- 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 255 

borhood of Fort Buford and the Lower Yellowstone, 
traveling north to strike at their hereditary foes, are 
frequently compelled to use their snow-shoes till they 
get near the spurs of the hills, where not a vestige of 
snow is to be seen, and they are enabled to cache their 
raquets and pursue the journey on unencumbered feet. 
We shall have been leaving also the rolling prairie, 
covered with short crisp buffalo grass, and the rich 
alluvial bottoms, carrying a rank vegetation, in which 
willows, alders, and wild cherries grow. We shall 
have passed through the true home and breeding- 
ground of the bison, through that great plateau over 
whose vast sad solitudes Sissapapas, Unkpapas, Yank- 
tonaise, Sansarks, and other northern divisions of the 
Dakota nation are forever restlessly wandering, fol- 
lowing the herds which supply them with food and 
with all the necessaries of life, and we shall have grad- 
ually entered upon the most dismal, most peculiar 
region on the continent. 

For days and days we dreamily paddle through 
scenery heart-breaking in its dull, hideous monotony. 
For hundreds of miles the river washes against its 
banks of clay, getting yellower and muddier as it flows. 
If we stop and climb a bluff, we shall see nothing but 
a brown desert of dried mud, looking as if the waters 
had left the surface only long enough for it to be 
cracked and scorched by the sun, and to allow of the 
growth of a few shrubs of cactus and artemisia. 
Nothing breaks the dull, meaningless stupidity of the 
round plain; flat, sad-colored, gray or olive-green, 
bounded by blue walls of sky. Not a single bit of 
bright color, no object of beauty, not a shade even of 



256 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

pleasant verdure refreshes the tired eye. Everywhere 
is brown mud, gray clay, or white alkali; everything 
is graceless, hideous, and depressing. 

As we sweep round the curve of one more link in 
the endless chain of river reaches, we may perhaps see 
an Indian, stooping to lap the water from his hands, 
suddenly leap erect, startled by the paddle-strokes, 
snatch at his pony, sling himself into the saddle, and 
vanish over the neighboring rise. Probably he is one 
of those fierce warriors of the north, the Blackfeet, off- 
shoot of the Dakota nation, once formidable, now al- 
most exterminated by disease. Or he may be of a 
kindred but hostile band, and belong to a war party of 
Minneconjou Sioux, intrepid raiders, who, descending 
from their northern plains, harry the cattle and lift the 
stock of settlers on the Platte or the Republican, and 
penetrate in search of horses away down into Texas, 
800 or 1,000 miles from the tents of their tribe. In 
either case it behooves us to be very careful. No hot 
coffee for supper, for we dare not make a fire ; the 
least impression of our feet, the smallest curl of smoke, 
would betray us. No more landing on the bank, for 
all such signs as those an Indian can read as a white 
man reads a book. But all night we will paddle on, 
the weather-worn clay banks looking grotesquely 
ghostly under the dim light of the stars. We are pass- 
ing through the mauvais terre of Dakota, one of the 
most extraordinary districts, geologically speaking, in 
the world. The high-clay, sand, or sandstone cliffs and 
bluffs that form the shores have been carved by rains, 
split by heat, and weathered into forms so various and 
fantastic that only the brush of a Gustave Dore could 
do justice to their weird wildness. In places it 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 257 

looks as if the river were running through the ruins of 
some Cyclopean city; an illusion that is heightened by 
the fact that on the summits of detached pinnacles and 
towers the massive forms of mountain sheep may very 
frequently be seen. It is a desert of clay, alkali, and 
sage-brush, uninhabited and uninhabitable. 

Still through a country of wild tribes the now 
mighty river pursues its way, gradually bending to the 
south, bordering the elevated plateau or Coteau-du- 
Prairie, past villages of Minatarees, Mandans, and 
Arikarees. 

Southward ever roll its waters, shaggy with im- 
bedded pine trees, yellow with the clays of the Bad 
Lands, receiving the currents of the Big Cheyenne, the 
Niobrara, and many lesser tributaries, slowly, very 
slowly emerging from utter barbarism into semi- 
civilization. Indians still crowd the banks, sit chatter- 
ing and laughing on the beach, or saunter listlessly 
about. But many are dressed in European clothes, and 
are very different men from the free wild savage of the 
plains. We were passing settlements of the different 
Teton sub-tribes, and of the Yankton division of the 
Sioux. 

To the east of us, not very far from the grand 
detour, lies a district most interesting from the fact 
that in it is found the great red pipe-stone quarry, 
where from time immemorial all the Indian tribes 
have been accustomed to resort in mutual peace, to 
gather material for the fashioning of their calumets. 
At these meetings the hatchet was buried, and for the 
time being hereditary and bitter foes met on terms of 
friendship. It was a sort of sanctuary, a common 
property, belonging to no tribe in particular, a place 



258 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

where they could all freely interchange ideas and 
barter merchandise. And, no doubt, from the facilities 
of intercommunication thus afforded many good results 
must have arisen. 

Among the sand-hills that fringe the western bank, 
stealing parties and war parties from the two principal 
bands of the Sioux, the Brules and Ogallalas, trail and 
track the hunters of Pawnees, Otoes, Winnebagoes, or 
Omahas, through whose reservations the river runs. 
These half-civilized men, who have learned all the vices 
and few of the virtues of the whites, mix freely with 
the hunters, trappers, and traders, who pursue their 
avocations with less risk and smaller profits than their 
fellows on the upper streams. Steamers ply upon the 
busy stream, and just before where the Platte — that 
preposterous river, miles broad in places, and only a 
few inches in depth — pours in its yellow sands, it 
sweeps between the rival cities of Omaha and Council 
Bluffs. 

After a brief glimpse of settlements, we should suffer 
a partial relapse into barbarism. 

We should see scattered parties wandering up from 
the Indian Territory of the Cherokee or Choctaw 
nations, men who live in houses, cultivate large farms, 
go to Sunday-school, and tell lies. These tribes are 
rich and prosperous, and offer almost the only instance 
of the native race proving strong enough, physically 
and morally, to withstand the deleterious effect of our 
superior state of existence. With them we should see 
members of their affiliated tribes, little remnants of 
eastern clans, whose very names suggest a history of 
wrong, bloodshed, and injustice ; of white men tortured, 
of Indians massacred, of injury unprovoked, of reprisal, 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 259 

revenge, and extermination ; Seminoles, Delawares, 
Shawnees, Sacs, Foxes, Senecas, Wyandottes, tribes 
from the borders of the sea, from the misty lakes of 
the northland, from the red pine forests of Virginia, 
the Carolinas and Florida, who till the land of the 
Territory, and look with envy on the few marauding 
wild men from the plains, Cheyennes and Sioux, Arapa- 
hoes, Kiowas, or Comanches, who may chance at rare 
intervals to water their horses at the brink. But this 
debatable land is soon passed, and over the broad still 
bosom of the river, cutting through the rich alluvial 
soil of Missouri, we slowly urge our boat. 

According to geographers, we should soon have to 
leave, in name at least, the river that we have followed 
from its birth, for we are approaching the place where 
the clear-flowing Mississippi pours in its waters from 
Minnesota, land of lakes. But as the Missouri is alto- 
gether the larger stream, has a larger course, drains a 
far greater extent of country, and carries a heavier 
body of water, and as, after the junction, it gives its 
character and color to the combined rivers, I maintain 
that below the union of the two the river should be 
called Missouri, and not Mississippi. After passing 
the quaint old French settlement of St. Charles, not 
so very long ago a frontier town of importance, we 
should glide into the shadow of the huge arches of the 
St. Louis bridge, and haul our canoe upon the levee of 
the Queen City of the West. 

What an awful change has taken place! Can this 
turbid, sullen flood, reeking with the filth of cities, 
swirling sulkily through the arches, frothing on its slimy 
banks, torn and beaten by the paddles of countless 
steamers, be the same stream that leaped into life in 



260 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

the northern sierras, and sweet with "odor of the forest, 
with the dew and damp of meadows, with the curling 
smoke of wigwams/' rushed through its "palisade of 
pine trees ?" How utterly incongruous and out of 
place do we appear, and our poor little birch canoe, in 
this busy hive of men, this great city of 300,000 inhab- 
itants ! What do the men who* jostle and stare at us 
know of the free life of the prairie and the woods, 
though in their warehouses are stored thousands and 
thousands of buffalo robes and skins? The best thing 
we can do is to get out of our moccasins, buckskins, and 
flannels, and, with the help of the barber and the dry- 
goods store, transform ourselves into civilized beings 
in white shirts, black store-clothes, and plug hat. How 
horribly uncomfortable we shall feel! How red and 
weather-beaten our faces will appear! And as to our 
hands — well, the less said about them the better. 

There is plenty to be seen and done at St. Louis ; but, 
if I linger to describe it, I shall awake out of my 
reverie before I can reach the sea. We must hurry up, 
step on board that palatial steamer just about to cast 
off from the levee, and continue the journey. If we 
desire to be very luxurious we can have a "bridal 
chamber," all hung with blue satin, "real elegant." 
Very pleasantly pass the days, with the help of good 
cigars, a few juleps, and a little gambling; the placid 
monotony of the time disturbed only by the bustle of 
arrival and departure at the numerous landing-stages 
that line the shores, and at which the steamer takes in 
or discharges bales of cotton and tobacco, hogsheads of 
sugar, barrels of pork, and flour for the field hands. 
Past rich alluvial steamy banks fringed with reeds, 
where tall canes and palmettoes take the place of the 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 261 

northern pine, we rush along through dreary cedar 
swamps, where the long funereal Spanish moss hangs 
dismally forlorn from the rotting boughs, past deserted 
mansions, abandoned plantations, and ruined homes. It 
is a country across the face of which "Ichabod" is 
plainly written, for the glory has indeed departed from 
it — a land whereon the stamp, not so much of war as of 
subsequent injustice, has been indelibly printed. . . . 

Still southward rolls the flood; heavier and more 
stagnant grows the atmosphere; gloomier and wider 
spread the lagoons and bayous. Turtles float on the 
surface; alligators bask in the sun; millions of fireflies 
glance and glitter under the shadows of the trees. The 
night is too close and oppressive for sound sleep; but 
towards morning a fresh cool air, smacking of the sea, 
refreshes one's fevered cheek, and before sunrise we are 
landed at the dear, quaint, picturesque, old-fashioned 
French market at New Orleans. 

All hail to the pleasant memories that jostle in my 
brain, and strive to run down through my pen when I 
think of you, O Crescent City! What a charming 
place you must have been before the war! Even 
now . . . you are a most hospitable and amusing and 
delightful city. New Orleans is quite different from 
any other town on the continent, with the single ex- 
ception perhaps of St. Augustine. Portuguese fisher- 
men wrangle in their harsh jargon on the quay; French 
Creoles — some of them old settlers of Louisiana, some 
descendants of Acadians expelled from Nova Scotia — 
gossip in the market-place. Streets are crooked, houses 
picturesque ; the red sashes of fishermen and the gaudy 
handkerchiefs of the negroes predominate largely over 
the black cloth or white linen of the clerks. There 



262 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

is a tone of bright color in the place, and a look of old 
Europe about it. We ought to stop some time at New 
Orleans, but we shall be catching cold on our breezy 
crag; so in spirit let us hurry on still south towards the 
sea. 

Cotton and tobacco are left behind ; through swampy, 
miasmatic savannahs and rice plantations the river 
dawdles, scarcely moving, old and weary, tired with 
the long race that it has run, melancholy with the scenes 
it has passed through, worn out with the strife and 
struggle of life — all enjoyment in existence gone, the 
brightness of its youth forgotten, the memory even de- 
parted of the days when it leapt flashing and exulting 
in the sun, and, brimful of exuberant life, flowed laugh- 
ing through the prairies, and brawled and battled 
noisily with the obstacles in its way. Very quietly and 
sadly it wanders on now through its delta, seeking only 
for rest and peace, till at last, after a course of count- 
less miles, after traversing or bounding numerous states 
and territories, and draining many thousands of square 
miles, it spreads its arms out thankfully, and wearily 
sinks asleep on the heaving bosom of the Gulf. And 
the little grain of hard sand, the minute fragment of 
feldspar or quartz, snatched from its rocky cradle at our 
feet on Mount Washburne, finds a tomb at last in the 
still depths of the ocean, and sinks to form part of a 
new continent — a minute helper in the universal 
scheme, a humble instrument in the hands of the great 
Architect of all. 

Turning south, and looking towards Henry's Lake, 
my eyes rest upon the broken country in which spring 
the sources of Green River. Varied are the scenes 
and strange the circumstances that attend upon the Mis- 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 263 

souri in its long course from the mountains to the sea ; 
but, apart from mercantile associations, that river can- 
not for a moment compare in general interest with the 
stream whose course I will attempt briefly to describe. 
For, through regions much wilder, more remote, and 
less known to white men ; through lands unsurveyed, al- 
most unexplored ; through valleys, plateaus, and moun- 
tains, equally remarkable with those of the north 
country, and having in addition a halo of vague surmise, 
a mist of southern romance and Spanish chivalry hang- 
ing over them, flow the waters that I now glance upon. 

Green River has a nearly due south course of about 
350 miles. At first it runs leaping and laughing 
through the hills and fertile valle)^s or forest like a 
happy romping child; but its youthful season of light- 
heartedness does not last long, and it soon enters upon 
the dry, cold, ungraceful duties of life. For many 
miles it traverses that portion of the great basin that 
used to be called the Colorado Desert, a flat, miserable 
country, devoid of beauty, dull and uninteresting in the 
sad-colored sameness of its dreary wastes. Plains 
white with alkali, or shaded green by a partial covering 
of sage-brush, and deserts supporting only a few 
artemisia bushes and grease-wood shrubs, form the 
general character of this country. 

In the midst of this desolation the traveler would 
suddenly be recalled to the recollection of arts, sciences, 
and engineering skill, and to the knowledge that such 
a thing as civilization still existed, by passing under 
the trestle-bridge of the Union Pacific Railway. After 
leaving behind him this token from the great world of 
cities and of progress, the scene very much improves. 
The river strikes upon the bold front of the Wahsatch 



264 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Mountains, and, forced out of its course, runs along 
the base of the range, busily seeking an outlet, which 
it finds at last through a gap between the Wahsatch 
and the Sierra Escalente. Having passed through the 
range, it soon bends a little to the westward, to make 
up for its former easterly digression, and enters upon 
a country entirely altered in its natural features and 
principal characteristics, and frequented by different 
representatives of the human race. It ploughs its way 
through fertile table-lands, and bursts through moun- 
tains; and though Utes, Shoshones, and other Indians 
kindred to the tribes we have been hitherto accustomed 
to, still drink of its waters, yet it is hastening rapidly 
towards the hunting-grounds and villages of very dif- 
ferent branches of the native stock. The few white 
men, too, that might be met with are dissimilar in ap- 
pearance, clothing, and language to the hunters and 
trappers of the North. 

The barbarous nomenclature of the Anglo-American 
race is left behind. We are now in a country to which 
the very names of the mountains, rivers, and passes 
give a certain amount of melodious interest. There is 
a remnant of the old chivalry of the Spanish invader 
clinging to it. We have done with Big Sandies, Little 
Thomsons, Bitter Creeks, Muggin's Gulches, Smith's 
Pass, and Brown, Jones, or Robinson's Peaks. Now 
we pass streams picturesquely named after some saint, 
or from the anniversary of some particular feast or 
festival, or from some peculiarity of vegetation or 
geological appearance, such as the Rio San Rafael, the 
San Juan River, the Rio de los Dolores; and streams 
rising in sierras, like the Sierra de los Pinos, Sierra 
Sangre de Christo, Sierra San Miguel, Sierra de la 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 265 

Plata, Sierra Abajo, or Sierra la Sal, discharge their 
clear waters into the river. We pass by Ojos and 
Lagunas, or ride over Mesas, Vegas, and Llanos. Irri- 
gating canals, though still remaining dirty ditches, 
sound much prettier when called acequias ; an arroyo is 
a pretty paraphrase for a muddy water-course; and 
villages convey a false but pleasant impression to us 
when metamorphosed into pueblos. The ordinary cir- 
cumstances of life and daily travel become interesting 
and acquire an extrinsic value in our eyes by the mere 
change of names. 

Though still in the United States, we are in a land 
which could not be more utterly unlike the regions 
traversed by the Missouri, if it were divided from 
them by leagues of ocean, or ruled by another govern- 
ment, and owned by another race. The melodiousness 
of the Spanish names adds, I think, very much to the 
pleasure of traveling in countries that have been under 
the domination of that race. What a pity it is that the 
American people (by American people I mean the 
citizens of the United States) have not more universally 
adopted the Indian, Spanish, or French names! It 
seems impossible for the Anglo-Saxon to invent a pic- 
turesque or appropriate nomenclature to describe the 
principal features of a new country, while the aborig- 
ines, and the Spanish or French voyagers, prospectors, 
and explorers have generally managed to hit upon some 
expression which either conveys a just idea of a pecu- 
liarity in the place, or is at any rate poetical in mean- 
ing and sonorous in sound. 

Through mountains, or elevated, fertile, gently roll- 
ing plains covered with timber and dotted with fresh- 
water lakes, Green River for 200 miles carves its way. 



266 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

receiving in the first fifty miles of its Alpine course the 
waters of the Zampah, the Uintah, and the White 
River; the Uintah rising among the masses of the 
Wahsatch, the other two in those great elevated nuclei 
of mountains which I have already mentioned as ex- 
isting on the confines of the north and middle parks of 
Colorado. Clear as crystal run the waters of these 
two tributaries, which spring among perpetual snows 
and flow through metamorphic ranges ; the little specks 
of mica — pilgrims' gold, as it is sometimes called — 
rolling down among their granite sand, glittering and 
sparkling in the sun, like flecks of the precious metal. 
Bright messages they bring from the high islands of 
Colorado, the Switzerland of America, telling of smil- 
ing valleys, warm sheltered parks, of lakes and ever- 
flowing streams. They linger a moment in the broad 
glare of sun, and then plunge sullenly into the gloomy 
depths of the canon that hides the parent stream. 

In the lower portion of its course the river cuts 
through a region that is better described as an elevated 
plateau than as a mountain range. Here it is joined by 
its eastern fork or chief tributary. The wandering 
hunter or savage, traveling along above the dark depths 
of the river-bed, would notice on his left as he de- 
scended the stream another great rent in the plateau 
converging from the east; and, about seventy miles be- 
low the crossing of the old Spanish trail from Los 
Angeles to Abiquie and Santa Fe, he would arrive at 
the spot where Green River, roaring far down in the 
depths of its canon, is joined by the Bunkara, or Grand 
River, rushing to meet it through a similar gorge. The 
two streams united form the Rio Colorado Grande. 

For 500 miles the united rivers, plunging from 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 267 

canon to canon, pursue a tortuous course far down in 
the bowels of the earth. For 300 miles the stream 
traverses the Grand Canon, a chasm of profound depth, 
which it has worn through various strata of rock, show- 
ing the method and order of position, defining their 
relative thicknesses, and affording the most remarkable 
geological section in the world. The almost perpen- 
dicular cliffs vary in height from 1,000 yards to a mile; 
and for many continuous leagues its awful depths have 
been estimated at over 7,000 feet. It is the greatest 
canon or gorge existing, as far as we know, on the face 
of the globe. 

The country traversed by the Grand Canon con- 
sists of a series of plateaus descending in regular steps 
towards the sea. As the river has no cascades, and 
not many rapids of any great height, but falls uni- 
formly with a steep but regular gradient, it follows, as 
a result of the peculiar formation of the country, that 
at the northern extremity of each canon the cliffs are 
comparatively low, and increase gradually in height 
until the river emerges at the southern end of the 
chasm from between most stupendous walls. What 
infinite ages must have been consumed while the current 
ground out its bed through these elevated plains! It 
does not appear that by any convulsion of Nature these 
chasms were formed, for the stratification is conform- 
able on opposite sides of the canon ; they must therefore 
have been slowly sawn out by the friction of water. I 
know of no exhibition in Nature that could give a man 
such an adequate idea of the slow but irresistible erod- 
ing powers of that element, or that could convey to 
his mind so accurate a notion of never-ceasing action 
persisting through an immensity of time, as can be ac- 



268 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

quired by the contemplation of these and other similarly 
great gorges, by which a river has leveled its bed 
through such a gigantic thickness of material as obsti- 
nate as most metamorphic rocks and granites. 

I suppose the Great Canon of the Colorado has been 
formed by a similar process, and in a manner resem- 
bling that by which the Niagara River is now creating 
a small canon between Lakes Erie and Ontario. If in 
former ages the Colorado flowed along the surface of 
the plains, what gigantic cataracts there must have 
been at the southern edge of each plateau ! 

All the Indian tribes with which we are acquainted 
have now been left behind, with the exception perhaps 
of a few representatives of the Pah Utes, who may oc- 
casionally wander down from the mountains. The 
borders of the Canon indeed can scarcely be said to be 
inhabited at all at present, though there are many in- 
dications that its safe recesses were at one time tenanted 
by a tolerably numerous and ingenious people. Who 
or what they were — these people who have utterly dis- 
appeared, but have left behind them, as memorials, 
their little dwellings and their irrigating ditches — 
whence they came, and what inducement could have 
forced them into a country so unsuitable to human 
life, it is hard to say; but it has been surmised that 
they were the inhabitants and the descendants of the 
inhabitants of villages and pueblos further south, who 
fled long ago before the mail-clad warriors of Spain. 

About sixty miles below the junction of its two forks, 
the Grand and the Green Rivers, the Colorado receives 
the turbulent waters of the San Juan, rushing tumul- 
tously from the eastward through a canon equaling in 
the immensity of its depths that of the main river. 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 269 

About this point the heights of the chasm walls are 
said to culminate, and the river is described as rush- 
ing madly between vertical cliffs so high that even at 
midday the light can scarcely penetrate the awful 
depths. At present there is no very accurate informa- 
tion to be obtained about this district, full reports of 
Major Powell's exploring expedition, which was under- 
taken in 1873 for the Smithsonian Institute, not hav- 
ing been published.* 

On the San Juan, which rises in Southern Colorado, 
are said to be situated some of the richest silver lodes 
in the continent; and the upper portions of its valley 
will probably before many years be settled up. Upon 
and near its banks are the villages and settlements of 
Pueblo Indians, apparently a different race to any at 
present existing on the continent. They dwell in 
towns, cultivate the land, and have a certain acquaint- 
ance with the manufacturing art. Who are they ? Is 
it true that they are the representatives of the Aztecs, 
and that among them are lineal descendants of the 
proud, civilized, and luxurious race which succumbed 
to the valor of Spain? It is hard to say, for they have 
been so little studied by men capable of solving such 
problems. It is told of them that from the balconies 
and flat summits of their houses they wait for the rising 
of the sun, and worship that luminary, and that they 
live in daily expectation of the coming of Montezuma. 
Certain it is, that in their estufos they constantly keep 
burning the sacred fire, and nourish and pay great 
reverence to a rattlesnake. They are altogether far 

1 See Major Powell's Through the Grand Canyon, which 
forms one of the volumes of the Outing Adventure 
Library. — Ed. 



270 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

more civilized in appearance, manners, and customs 
than the wild tribes who encompass them about, and 
are evidently sprung from a very different stock. 

There is an immense field for ethnological research 
in the New World. In New and Old Mexico, Ari- 
zona and Southern Utah, occur villages of Moquis and 
other civilized Pueblo Indians; and the remains of a 
powerful and constructive race are numerous. Very 
common in Yucatan, and many portions of Central 
America, frequent in Mexico and all the Gulf States, 
and occasionally to be found as far north as the neigh- 
borhood of the Great Lakes, are the strange memo- 
rials and vestiges of that departed people generally 
known as Mound Builders. It is a great field, and it 
lies almost fallow. 

Some distance further on, the Colorado Grande 
receives, also from the southeast, the waters of the 
Colorado Chiquito, rising in the Zufii Mountains and 
the great plateau of the Sierra Madre. Could we 
ascend its rapid current we should find ourselves 
among pueblos of the Moquis and other similar tribes 
of Indians, organized communities dwelling in towns 
and villages, that stand like oases in the wilderness, 
over which roam wild Apaches and Navajos, savages 
crafty and warlike — western Ishmaelites, whose hands 
are against every man, and against whom every man's 
hand is raised in turn. It is of these Indians and 
the country infested by them that a hardy adventurer 
said, in reply to some inquiries, that Arizona was not 
a bad sort of country, and that it contained a right 
smart chance for prospecting, but that the Indians 
were awful mean, especially the Apaches, who trou- 
bled him very much, because they filled him so full of 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 271 

bullet-holes he could not hold his victuals. These 
Apaches are more dreaded by the whites than perhaps 
any other tribe on the continent. They have kept up 
a constant guerrilla warfare with the settlers, and up 
to the present have not only succeeded in holding their 
own, but have actually turned back the tide of immi- 
gration from their country. They have depopulated 
whole districts in Mexico, and have completely para- 
lyzed the energies and stayed the progress of the fron- 
tier provinces of New Spain. From their unknown 
fastnesses in the Mimbres Mountains, and in the many 
sierras and cordillerras that traverse the desolate plains 
which constitute the greater part of their country, these 
marauders sally forth to harry the unhappy settlers of 
El Paso, Chihuahua, Sonora, and Sinaloa; or, armed 
with the guns and clothed in the garments captured 
and stripped from the bodies of slaughtered Mexican 
lancers and dragoons, lie in wait for the sturdier but 
less numerous immigrants and prospectors of the 
Anglo-American race, who have been induced by tales 
of the vast riches in gold and silver hidden in these 
mountains to risk their lives in the pursuit of wealth. 
What fearful stories are told of these border forays — 
stories of frontier villages burned and wrecked; of 
towns, situated so far in the interior that they were 
deemed secure, surprised, pillaged, and destroyed; of 
quiet, peaceful haciendas, at eve beautiful in the luxuri- 
ant natural foliage of a sub-tropical land and in the 
rich exuberance of cultivated crops, at morn reduced 
to a smoking pile of charred rafters and crumbling 
adobe walls; of wives and daughters torn from hus- 
bands' or fathers' arms to grace the lodges of cruel 
savages; of expeditions organized in pursuit; of sur- 



272 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

prise and recapture; of the finding of lost ones after 
years of bitter separation; — stories varying in detail, 
but all of them with the same coloring of blood, all 
of them sounding the same undertone of battle, mur- 
der, and sudden death. 

Yet these plains, than which no portion of the Great 
Sahara can now be more inhospitable, plains which sup- 
port nothing whatever in the shape of vegetation ex- 
cept the huge ungainly cactus, at one time or other 
were certainly inhabited by a numerous and prosperous 
race, for you may ride through leagues and leagues 
of country strewn with the remnants of their pottery, 
and see evidences of man's work in deserts where now 
there is not food enough to support a grasshopper. 

At last, after a passage of 500 miles deeply trenched 
in the surface of the earth, the Colorado once more 
bursts forth into the light of day ; and shortly after be- 
ing joined by the Rio Virgen, a river rising in the 
Wahsatch range, it issues from its long imprisonment 
in the mountains and pursues a tolerably even course 
towards the sea, flowing nearly due south. Near the 
junction is situated the Mormon settlement of Call- 
ville. Below this point it passes through the country 
of various divisions of the Apache tribes, until sixty 
miles from its mouth it is joined by a great river, the 
Rio Gila, flowing from the Cordilleras to the east. 
Here, in a land scorched and burnt by the fierce un- 
tempered rays of a tropical sun which, radiating from 
the glowing surface of the desert, renders the heat 
well-nigh insupportable, is situated the most remote 
post of the United States, Fort Yuma. It is of this 
post that the story is narrated of a soldier, who, after 
leaving it for another but apparently not better world, 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 273 

reappeared at midnight a few days subsequently to one 
of his comrades, and begged him for goodness sake to 
give him his blanket and overcoat, because in com- 
parison with Southern Arizona he found his present 
habitation unbearably cold. 

Sixty miles below this the river mingles with the 
warm salt waters of the Californian Gulf. 

The general character of the country drained by the 
Colorado is that of a great table-land, composed of a 
series of extensive mesas or plateaus rising from the sea 
towards the north and east in ascending steps, overtop- 
ping each other by a height of several thousand feet. 
The shape of this table-land is a sort of irregular tri- 
angle, the apex lying about the intersection of the 38th 
parallel and the 110th meridian, and the base being 
upon the sea, or rather upon the sea-coast range. The 
eastern side forms the divide between the Rio Grande 
del Norte and the Colorado. This watershed follows 
in places the crests of the Sierra Madre, and of the 
many other sierra offshoots and spurs of the main 
range, but during the major portion of its length pur- 
sues a devious course along an imperceptible ridge in 
the Sierra Madre plateau. Its principal tributaries, the 
Gila, Bill William's Fork, and the San Juan, flow from 
the east. The Rio Virgen, though entering it from 
the right hand, yet flows from the north, and it re- 
ceives no confluent of any size from the west except 
the Mohave. From its southwestern angle extends 
a very peculiar feature in American geography. A 
long depression sunk about 70 feet below sea-level, 
comprising some 30,000 square miles, stretches from 
the San Bernardino Mountains to the 38th parallel, a 
distance of about 250 miles in length. This oblong 



274 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

basin is a perfect desert, and is commonly and not in- 
aptly called the "Valley of Death." 

Very little indeed is known of Arizona and parts of 
New Mexico, Colorado and Utah. Constant hostility 
on the part of the Indians has frustrated all efforts at 
successful colonization. Though the greater portion 
of Arizona, as far as our knowledge of it extends, is 
parched and barren in the extreme, yet it undoubtedly 
must contain fertile land, and that on a large scale. 
No human beings, not even Apaches and Navajos — 
those Western Bedouins — could exist in it if the usual 
surface of their country was of a character similar to 
that portion of it with which the whites are acquainted. 
Far in the recesses of the mountains are the homes of 
these wild horsemen; and in those secluded valleys 
must be hidden parks and pasture lands in plenty. 
There, too, in the imagination of many a hardy pros- 
pector, are valleys strewn with balls and lumps of 
native silver, and hillsides where the precious metal 
crops out of the surface. Legends of stately cities 
where Incas still reign, where the sacred fire has never 
been extinguished, where the ordinary utensils of the 
people are of solid gold and silver, float out from this 
land of misty rumor and vague tradition, and fire the 
brains of reckless men. Many a poor fellow has met 
a cruel and violent death from the hands of savages, or 
has perished in slow, solitary misery, of thirst and 
starvation, wandering through these trackless wastes 
in search of the fulfilment of his dreams. It is a 
country a great portion of which can never be settled 
up, for by constant irrigation only could it be culti- 
vated; and who is going to expend labor and money 
there, when to the south, in the highlands of Mexico, 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 275 

is a fertile land, a garden country situated within the 
influence of tropical rains, and while to the north and 
east are the valleys, parks, and plains of New Mexico 
and Colorado freely watered by perennial streams? 

The best description that I am acquainted with of 
this part of the United States is to be found in "New 
Tracks in North America," by Dr. Bell; in the pages 
of which interesting work will be found a most graphic 
account of the passage of the Grand Canon of the Colo- 
rado by a man of the name of White, who, most mira- 
culously escaping all dangers and overcoming almost 
incredible difficulties, succeeded in navigating the river 
on a raft from above the two forks to Callville. 

Let us turn to streams that will lead us through very 
different scenes and climates. 

Numerous little creeks and rills combine to form 
Snake River, and it is difficult to say where its head- 
waters should really be placed ; but in any case we shall 
not have to look far from the sources of the river that 
occupied our attention last. In some maps the sources 
of Snake River are indicated as existing about twenty 
miles south of the south end of Yellowstone Lake ; but 
I fancy that those streams are joined by other branches 
having their springs further from the mouth of the 
main river, and contributing to it a stronger body of 
water. Old trappers and hunters used to talk of 
"Two-water Lake," a sheet of water so called because 
from that mutual spring two rivers ran — the one to 
the Atlantic, and the other to the Pacific Ocean ; and, 
though not literally true, yet their statement turns out 
to be very nearly correct. The Yellowstone River, 
after a course of 1,300 miles, falls into the Missouri, 
and through that channel finds the Gulf. It flows 



276 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

from out the lake of the same name; and though it 
cannot be said actually to rise there, for there is a 
river flowing into the lake also that heads some dis- 
tance to the south, yet the Yellowstone Lake may not 
inaptly be described as the source of a river running 
into the eastern seas. On the southwestern side of the 
Yellowstone Lake, about five or six miles from its 
shore, lies a little sheet of water called Hearts Lake, 
from which flows a strong stream, which is certainly 
one of the most important branches of Snake River, 
and is probably its principal source. Hearts Lake is 
fed by a small creek, which rises in a promontory jut- 
ting out some distance into the water of Yellowstone 
Lake. Thus within the encircling arms of that lovely 
sheet of water is contained the fountain whence bursts 
into life the southern fork of the mighty Columbia 
River. The sources of the Snake and the Yellow- 
stone overlap and interlock, and the old uncredited 
legend of Two-water Lake turns out after all to be 
almost literally true. 

The stream to which I ask my readers now to turn 
their attention is called indiscriminately Snake River, 
Shoshone River, and the southern branch or Lewis 
Fork of the Columbia. I respect it for having so 
many names. Every river ought to be voluminously 
baptized for the convenience of those who wish to write 
about it. It obviates such a lot of painful repetition. 
The Snake, however, is a river of uncertain tempera- 
ment and undecided mind. It is incapable apparently 
of striking out and maintaining an independent course 
of its own, but goes wandering aimlessly about, feebly 
trying to find a way out of the deserts that encompass 
it during the early part of its career. 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 277 

First it flows south, receiving many accessions from 
the neighborhood of the Yellowstone Lake and the 
northwestern slopes of Wind River Mountains; then, 
at the earnest solicitation of several tributaries rising 
in or about Lewis and Shoshone Lakes, it turns sud- 
denly to the north and, having met and received their 
currents, bends again to the southward, making a bold 
curve round from south to west for about 180 miles. 
Then it flows nearly due north for 200 miles or so, 
its course being almost conterminous with the boundary 
of Idaho and Oregon, until it receives its principal con- 
fluent, the Salmon River; and after a western course 
of 80 miles it discharges into the Columbia. Soon 
after leaving Wyoming, the land of its' birth — a land 
sparkling with streams and shining lakes, swathed in 
solemn folds of forests, or bedecked and rendered glad- 
some with flowery vales and grassy prairies — it enters 
upon a district of clay, sand, and alkali, prickly pear, 
artemisia, and sage-brush, such as I have many times 
previously attempted to describe. The valley of its 
drainage has an average width of 70 or 80 miles, and 
the desert lies principally on its northern or right bank. 
It rises in Wyoming, and traverses the entire breadth 
and almost the whole length of Idaho, and, together 
with the Columbia, forms the boundary of Washington 
and Oregon territories. 

About the center of its great southern curve is Fort 
Hall, a small military establishment situated in the 
reservation of the Shoshone and Bannock Indians, and 
some 60 miles west of that post is the principal feature 
of the river, the great Shoshone Falls. 

Lewis Fork is a river that depends very materially 
upon snow melting for its supplies, and consequently it 



278 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

varies very much in volume, being in spring and early 
summer nearly equal to the Columbia, but in winter 
dwindling to a comparatively small stream. But this 
epithet of small is comparative only, and is not really 
applicable, for it is at all seasons a large river, being 
over 200 yards broad just above the principal fall. 
Like all other rivers on the continent that flow over a 
series of mesas or table-lands, it has worn its way 
gradually back from each precipice, and formed a 
tolerably level bed by sawing out for itself a deep gorge. 
Above the fall the canon is between 600 and 700 feet 
in depth, the upper portion of the sides being composed 
of steep clay bluffs and buttress-like intrusions of basalt, 
while the lower half is of gray porphyritic trachyte. 
Above the brow of the fall the course of the river is 
broken by several small islands and large fragments of 
volcanic rock, among which its waters rush and rend 
their way in numerous shoots and rapids. The trans- 
verse trachyte dyke that forms the cascade curves up- 
stream, like the great Horseshoe Fall at Niagara. 
Over this ledge the river plunges in one vast solid mass, 
striking full upon the surface of the water about 190 
feet below. There are no rocks beneath to break and 
dash to pieces the descending column, which drops 
vertically into a mist-enshrouded cauldron of seething, 
surging foam; and though the face of the ridge is 
broken into rough jutting ledges and shelves, yet their 
presence is indicated only by occasional lateral jets of 
foam, the mass of water being so heavy that it falls in 
an almost solid, shining, uninterrupted wall. About 
four miles above the chief fall is another cascade. 
Here the river just before its leap expands considerably, 
and is divided into two channels by a low island that 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 279 

reaches to the very brow of the fall. On the north 
side of the island the current springs boldly over a pro- 
jecting cliff, and falls a distance of 150 feet, striking 
the green surface of the pool beneath. On the other 
side the ledge has given way; and the current plunges 
madly, foaming down a steep and broken slope covered 
with fractured fragments of the dyke. 

The formations being in many respects very similar 
in both instances, these falls must somewhat resemble 
those situated on the Yellowstone and in Tower Creek. 
Both are to a great extent indebted for the strange 
wildness of their scenery and for the savage desolation 
that so gloomily envelops them and that impresses the 
visitor so very powerfully, to the peculiar structural 
effects produced by the rounded water-wrought masses 
of trachyte, the long lines and square buttresses of 
columnar basalt, the angular fragments of other vol- 
canic material, and the weather-worn, eroded masses 
of indurated clay, of which their surroundings are 
chiefly composed. The Shoshone canon is wanting 
entirely in the gorgeous coloring which distinguishes 
that of the Yellowstone, and the falls and the scenery 
surrounding them are endowed with no particular 
form of loveliness or grace. But this lack of beauty 
may perhaps be partially made up for by the peculiar 
quality of desolation that pervades them, and which 
they possess in a preeminent degree. Very few men 
have visited these falls, but all who have done so agree 
in thinking that the perfectly level, utterly monoto- 
nous plain, the dingy, neutral-colored gray greens of 
sage-brush, and the browns of sunburnt clay — tints 
so sad that not even the fierce light of midsummer's 
sun blazing in a sky of cloudless blue can strike out the 



280 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

smallest particle of bright cheerful color — combined 
with the long gloomy endless sides of the canon, and the 
forbidding blackness of the volcanic rocks that encircle 
the falls, make altogether a scene most savage and 
strange in the extreme. After passing the falls the 
Snake River flows towards the north, and traverses the 
country of the Pen d'Oreilles and Coeur d'Alenes. 

At their junction the two forks of the Columbia are 
in early summer nearly equal to each other in volume, 
but the northern branch (or Columbia proper), taken 
from year's end to year's end, is by far the more im- 
portant river of the two. Its current maintains a more 
consistent level, being fed by the numerous reservoirs 
through which it passes, such as the upper and lower 
Columbia Lakes and Lakes Pen d'Oreille and Coeur 
d'Alene. With it we have nothing to do. It is note- 
worthy principally as forming part of a natural high- 
way to the extreme north. Its course is very tortuous. 
For a long distance it flows nearly north, striking the 
eastern flanks of the Selkirk Mountains; and then, 
bursting through that chain and turning sharp round, 
it pursues a direction nearly parallel with its former 
channel, running between the Selkirk and the main or 
snowy range of the Rocky Mountains. Not far from 
where it turns suddenly to the south, but on the other 
side of the chain, are clustered the sources of the 
Athabaska River The pass is not a difficult one, I be- 
lieve, though it is overshadowed by one of the loftiest 
peaks on the continent, Mount Brown, which attains 
an altitude of 16,000 feet. The distance between the 
Columbia and Athabaska is not great, and the waters of 
the latter river, after joining the Mackenzie, flow 
mingled with that mighty current into the Arctic 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 281 

Ocean. It is a long path though, that leads by this 
route from sea to sea ; and a weary way it is to travel ; 
for from its mouth to where it breaks through the Sel- 
kirk Mountains close to Athabaska pass, the Columbia 
has a course of 1,500 miles; and from the head of the 
Athabaska to the mouth of the Mackenzie, descending 
Slave River and traversing Athabaska and Slave Lakes, 
is over 2,000 miles more. 

Shortly below the junction the Columbia is a magni- 
ficent river of from one to two and a half miles broad. 
For several hundreds of miles it flows through upland 
sparsely-timbered plains; but, as it nears the sea, the 
shores of its fine estuary are densely clothed with all 
manner of valuable hardwood trees, such as various 
species of oak and ash. Alders, poplars, and beech 
also are mingled with them, and help to relieve the 
somber monotony inseparable from forests of unmixed 
coniferous trees, while some of the pines attain gigantic 
proportions, being second only to the "Big Trees' ' of 
California. The navigation of the river by vessels of 
any burden is interrupted 170 miles from the sea by 
the Dalles, or narrows, a series of low rapids over 
which the river tumbles, falling seventy feet in ten 
miles. These rapids are, I believe, passable by boats at 
high water. The banks of the lower river are in- 
habited by Chinooks and other tribes, who live en- 
tirely on fish, and hunt but little, though they pay 
some attention to trapping and collecting the furs 
which the country produces in tolerable abundance. 

Oregon is naturally one of the richest portions of 
the United States. Its climate is good, being superior 
to that of California. It is admirably adapted for till- 
age, farming, and stock and sheep-raising; it is covered 



282 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

with valuable timber; and it is traversed by fine rivers, 
which are stocked with salmon and other fish. Settle- 
ments were established in it, and the trade with the 
natives secured by the Hudson's Bay Company, or (as 
I am not sure that the establishment of trading-posts 
did not take place prior to the amalgamation) I should 
perhaps be more correct in saying, by the adventurous 
pioneers of the North- West Fur Company. There 
are but four or five harbors on the Pacific coast, and 
Oregon possesses two of them. And yet, with all 
these advantages to be considered, Great Britain did 
not think this fine territory worth the trouble and dif- 
ficulty of keeping; but gave it up almost without dis- 
puting her claim, and suffered herself to be nearly 
crowded out of the Pacific coast altogether. There is 
a legend current, which I do not exactly remember, 
but it is to the effect that the cession of Oregon was 
not strongly opposed at home because some plenipoten- 
tiary sent out to examine into the matter reported that 
it was a useless and disgusting country, for the salmon 
in the Columbia would not take a fly. I am afraid 
that this myth is too good to be true, and that the 
Colonial Office has no such valid excuse to offer for 
its conduct. Certain it is that, actuated by whatever 
causes, we abandoned Oregon very easily, not to say 
supinely. And the worst of it all is, that under the 
fostering care of the United States the salmon have be- 
come so educated that they will now take a fly. 

Very slow to look after the advantage of herself and 
of her children has Great Britain been. We will not 
now discuss such grave questions as those affecting 
Maine and British Columbia, or springing from the 
consideration that the only road to Red River and the 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 283 

West runs of necessity along the boundary line for a 
long distance. But look at the nice little hitch up 
North which the line makes in Lake Superior, thereby 
sweeping in Isle Royal and all its copper. Observe, 
too, the absurd way in which — to suit the letter of a 
badly worded stipulation — the boundary goes up into 
the northwest angle of the Lake of the Woods. Per- 
haps it may be thought that a few acres in the north- 
west angle of the Lake of the Woods are not worth 
troubling about, and that the Yankees might as well 
have them as not; but does any one imagine that they 
would go there for nothing? Not a bit of it. That 
corner contains one of the best cranberry marshes in 
North America. 

And so for a full hour I sat upon the rocky summit 
of Mount Washburne, and, without moving, surveyed 
with my outward eyes the springs of these great rivers, 
and with my inward vision followed them in their 
long journeyings from their sources to the sea. 

It is pleasant thus to gaze out upon the world from 
some lofty standpoint ; to hold, as it were, in the hollow 
of one's hand the lives and destinies of great rivers; to 
stretch out and to grasp threads which, unwinding 
their interminable length, lead one through so many 
countries and peoples and climates. It seems to ex- 
pand the mind ; it conducts one by easy pathways down 
long lanes of thought penetrating far into the future 
of nations, and opens out broad vistas of contemplation 
through which glimpses of what may be can dimly be 
discerned. The outlook from such a commanding 
point elevates the mind, and the soul is elated by the 
immensity of Nature. An appreciation of man's supe- 
riority over all other works of the Creator asserts itself, 



284 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

and the world seems to He subject at one's feet. A 
feeling of wonder seizes one that man can be so weakly 
foolish as to suffer himself to be moved and vexed by 
the trival crosses, the disappointments, the thwarted 
ambitions, and vain bickerings of life. Calm, soothing 
philosophy is taught, is forced upon one by everything 
that the eye sees and the ear hears, or that can be other- 
wise apprehended by the senses; and peace permeates 
one's whole being. 

Those strange thoughts and problems over which 
men uselessly shatter their brains intrude themselves 
unbidden upon the mind, and a man asks himself in- 
voluntarily how it is that in a scene like this, and sur- 
rounded by circumstances differing as much as can be 
from the outcome of all those products and results of 
civilization that in our estimation constitute the best 
part of life, he feels infinitely superior to his civilized 
self. Have we turned our back upon the light? Is 
our progress a retrogression, and not an advance? 
Are we in the darkness pursuing a shadow ? Or is the 
present conflict between Nature and man only a pass- 
ing incident, a fleeting phase in the ample roll of the 
history of the world? 

Long could I have pondered and wondered, but day 
was fast declining ; and from my musings I was roughly 
roused by Boteler, who reckoned that, unless I had 
concluded to take root there, I had better get up and 
look for camp. 

I jumped to my feet. It was indeed high time to be 
moving. The sun was getting very low, and the 
valleys were already steeped in shade. To the east all 
was dark, but in the western heavens long flaming 
streaks of yellow were flashing across a lowering sky. 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 285 

The masses of black cloud were glowing red with an 
angry flush. The clear white light of a watery sun 
had changed into broad streaks of flaunting saffron. 
Across all the hemisphere opposed to it, the setting orb 
was shaking out the red and yellow folds of its banners, 
challenging the forces of the storm which was marshal- 
ing on the horizon its cloudy warriors resplendent in 
burnished gold. As I looked the sun sank into a mass 
of cumulus, and all was gray. 

So we turned to descend the mountain; but, as we 
went, the sun, invisible to us, broke through some 
hidden rift in the cloud strata, and shone out bright 
and strong, splashing its horizontal rays full against 
the opposite slope, and deluging the lower portions of 
the valley with a flood of intense, cherry-colored lurid 
light. The hills reddened as if beat upon by the full 
glare of a great furnace. It was a sight most glorious 
to see. The beauty of it held us and forced us to stop. 
The glow did not gradually ripen into fullness, but 
suddenly and in all its intensity struck upon a promi- 
nent ridge, lighting up the crags and cliffs, and even 
the rocks and stones, in all their details; and then by 
degrees it extended and spread on either side over the 
foot-hills, bringing out the projecting slopes and 
shoulders from deep gloom into clear light, and throw- 
ing back the valleys into blackest shade. Every rock 
and precipice seemed close at hand, and shone and 
glowed with such radiance that you could trace the 
very rents and crevices in the cliff-faces, and mark the 
pine trees clinging to the sides; while in comparison 
the deep recesses of the chasms and canons seemed to 
extend for miles back into dark shadow. 

As the sun sank so rose the light, rushing upwards, 



286 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

surging over the hills in a wave of crimson most rarely 
beautiful to behold, and illuminating the great bulk of 
the range, while the peaks were still darkly rearing 
their sullen heads above the tide, and the valleys were 
all filled with gray vapor. At last the glare caught 
the mist, and in an instant transformed it from gray 
cloud into a gauzy, half-transparent veil, light, airy, 
delicate exceedingly, in color like the inner petals of 
the rose. Then, as the sun dropped, suddenly the 
light flashed upon the summits; the peaks leaped into 
life for a moment, and sank back into their clay-blue 
shrouds. 

In silence we descended the mountain, picking our 
way through the gathering darkness, and leading our 
horses until we regained the trail, when we mounted 
and pushed on as rapidly as the jaded condition of the 
animals would permit. 

The first thing we saw in the gloom was an unusual- 
looking object, apparently nearly all head, standing 
erect upon its hind-legs, swaying about and making a 
strange grumbling noise. Bear, thought I; but, on 
closer inspection, it turned out to be Maxwell, stum- 
bling along with his Saddle on his head, very tired, al- 
most drunk with fatigue, and in a very bad humor. 
His horse had given out in crossing the pass, and after 
bestowing a parting kick on the unfortunate cook, 
which vastly accelerated the progress of that worthy 
down the mountain and very nearly broke his leg, had 
utterly refused to proceed any further. The rider 
had consequently been compelled to abandon the horse 
to its fate, and to take up his saddle and walk home 
ignominiously, like a man coming in amid the jeers of 
the populace from a disastrous steeplechase. We tried 



KEYSTONE OF THE CONTINENT 287 

consolation, but in vain; Maxwell was weeping for 
his horse, and would not be comforted. A little 
further, and we came upon another member of the 
party driving his jaded animal before him, propelling 
the beast with a constant stream of rapidly uttered 
swear-words, delivered in a steady and sustained jet 
with much strength and precision. It was not strange 
that something stirred at an appeal so moving ; the only 
wonder was that the man, being the lighter of the two, 
was not knocked backward by the force of his own 
language. Further on we overtook other individuals, 
some riding, some walking, all in bad humor and tired 
out. My horse lay down twice under me, and I also 
had to take it on foot. The ground was very rough, 
the night pitch dark, and altogether it was "a hard 
road to travel." We were all scattered about the 
country, out of sight and hearing of each other ; but at 
last the leading men got down by the river and lit a fire, 
and, attracted by the blaze and by whoops and whistles, 
we straggled in somehow, and made camp and supper. 



CHAPTER XI 

TRACKING BACK 

THE next day we rode to the Mammoth Hot 
Springs. Our outfit was getting exceedingly 
demoralized, and on this occasion also it was 
long after dark before we got into camp. We had 
counted upon getting plenty of game, deer or elk, all 
through the trip, and had arranged the commissariat 
accordingly. But we had grievously miscalculated 
either our own skill or the resources of the country, 
for not an atom of fresh meat had we tasted for days. 
This sort of perpetual fast began to tell upon us. We 
were a hungry crowd. Trout I had devoured till I 
was ashamed to look a fish in the face. When I saw 
them, their heads just sticking out of the weeds and 
their broad tails fanning the water, take a look at my 
grasshopper, and sidle across the stream, I fancied that 
I could discern a wink in their expressive eyes, a draw- 
ing down of the corner of their eloquent mouths; and 
imagined I could hear them say: "No, no, my boy: you 
have had your share; things are getting pretty fishy; 
you will be developing fins yourself, if you go on in this 
sort of way." A trout diet is all very well in warm 
weather, and taken with moderate exercise; but when 
the mercury gets below freezing, and you have to work 
hard all day, commend me to venison and fat pork. 
So not only were the horses and mules tired and sulky, 
288 



TRACKING BACK 289 

but the "humans" also were beginning to show signs 
of dissatisfaction. 

Before leaving the Mammoth Hot Springs we had 
provisioned the party with five prong-horns killed on 
the trail we were to take to-day. Why not, said we, 
do the same again, or at any rate part of the same ? So 
Wynne, Boteler, and I formed ourselves into a com- 
mittee of supply and started off ahead of the column, 
determined to get something to eat. 

We rode for some two or three hours over the roll- 
ing upland, and then espied some antelopes. Wary 
and wild as hawks, the villains saw us at the same 
moment, and soon put themselves out of our reach. A 
little further on we saw three more feeding on a hill- 
side about a mile off. I dismounted, stamped the geo- 
graphy of the country as well as I could on my brain 
and, while the others sat down and waited, ran along 
under cover of a ridge to circumvent and get to lee- 
ward of the game. The ground was good for stalking, 
and I expected to get a nice shot; but when I had got 
round under the brow on the other side of which I 
fancied the antelopes were feeding, and after breathing 
a mild imprecation, had dragged myself to the top and 
craned my head over the ridge, the deuce a living thing 
was to be seen except Wynne and Boteler, on a mound 
ever so far off, making antics like a couple of mounte- 
banks, indicating that the prong-horns had "vamoosed" 

I felt much inclined to take a pot-shot at my gesticu- 
lating friends, but did not indulge my fancy, consoling 
myself with reflecting that perhaps the antelopes were 
bucks and not in good condition, and that there were 
plenty more of them about. Of course they -said when 
I rejoined them that it was all my fault, and that I had 



290 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

made noise enough brushing through the dried rustling 
sunflowers to scare a dead antelope into blue fits. I did 
not believe a word of it. After that we rode all the 
morning without seeing a single solitary creature fit to 
eat, until in the afternoon we crossed the trail and 
got up on some bluffs almost overlooking the cascade 
on Gardiner's River. Here was a nice country, little 
open parks and glades, with pools of water in them oc- 
curring frequently in the pine woods; and we had not 
gone far before Boteler, who was leading, jerked his 
pony onto his haunches and motioned me to get down. 
Over the ridge he had just caught a glimpse of an ante- 
lope. At the same moment a storm that had threatened 
all day burst, and choked and pelted us with such a 
driving deluge of hail, sleet, and rain as is only to be 
met with in these youthfully violent and unfinished 
countries. Wynne, who had lagged behind, got under 
a rock somewhere; Boteler and I, who were on the 
open, put out for the nearest pine tree and backed up 
against it. 

I have seen storms on the plains, when the hailstones 
were so large and descended from such a distance that 
a man exposed to them would be glad to whip his saddle 
off and protect his head with it. This storm was not 
quite so bad as all that, but it was severe enough ; and 
the hailstones cut cruelly. We waited until the worst 
was over, and then, as we could not afford to waste 
time, started out to look for the antelope. We found 
him right enough; an old buck he was, and lying — 
the cautious, crafty old sinner — on the top of a little 
knoll in the very center of a small circular plain, of 
perhaps 1,000 yards in diameter. On one side, and 
about 200 or 300 yards from him, was a little out- 



TRACKING BACK 291 

cropping fragment of slate, a few inches high and 
some five or six yards long. To crawl up behind that 
ledge and take a shot from it, appeared to be the only 
chance. So I told Boteler to make a long round and 
ensconce himself behind a clump of trees on the op- 
posite side, so as to secure the off-chance of a running 
shot in case the antelope went that way, and I, with a 
woeful glance at the cold soaking grass, proceeded to 
wriggle myself up to the stones. I don't like wriggling 
like an eel in the wet grass, particularly when you have 
to go a long way prone upon the streaming face of 
mother earth, dragging yourself through shallow pools 
of standing water, and through tufts of tall, drenching 
weeds that flick the spray down your neck. Rain 
water is cold, beastly cold ; and, favored by your pecu- 
liar attitude, it insinuates itself through interstices in 
your garments which would not otherwise be accessible, 
percolating into all sorts of queer places, and making 
you quake and shiver. 

When I got up to the last shelter, there was the 
prong-buck ever so much further off than I expected, 
lying down, but by no means in a quiet frame of mind, 
for he was looking about him in all directions, evidently 
inspired with a notion that something was the matter. 
There was not so much as a stalk of sage-brush or a 
tuft of long grass between me and him; so I had to 
take my shot from where I was. Of course I could 
not discover a crack or cranny through which I could 
catch sight of him without giving him a chance of see- 
ing me; and of course I could not, to save my scalp, 
find a nice, convenient place to lie. When I had 
slowly, by hairbreadths at a time, dragged myself to 
the top and had at last settled myself comfortably, and 



292 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

gently pushed my rifle forward, and was taking a long 
breath preparatory to firing, a great raindrop must 
needs splash right on top of the foresight, causing me 
to wink violently. So I came down and, leveling my 
gun the second time, hardened my heart, and was just 
feeling a strong pressure on the trigger and wonder- 
ing nervously why the thing did not go off, when flick ! 
a hailstone, under the especial patronage of Satan, 
struck me on the nose. I felt that I should miss him, 
and I began to hate that buck. However, I came down 
again, wriggled an inch or two further up the hill, 
crossed my feet, filled my lungs, set my teeth, and got 
a nice sight upon him. How ridiculously small he 
seemed, and how absurdly the foresight would keep 
wobbling about! At last I got it pretty steady, and 
pulled. As I did so he caught sight of my expressive 
countenance, and jumped as only an antelope can 
jump, and my bullet splashed up the mud a foot or two 
behind and under him. Do you suppose he ran to- 
wards Boteler? Not a bit of it, but just the other 
way; and in half a dozen jumps was out of sight. 

It was blowing so hard, and there was such a noise 
of storm, that there was no danger of the shot having 
disturbed anything, and so, as the country looked very 
gamey, we walked on, leading the horses, and presently 
came upon a little band containing six antelopes. We 
were by this time near the summit of a long sloping 
mountain. The ground fell away rapidly on either 
side, and in a long but narrow glade the antelopes were 
lying. While we were peering at them, two does — 
nasty inquisitive females — got up, walked forward a 
few steps and stared too. We remained still as statues, 
and after a while they appeared satisfied and began to 



TRACKING BACK 293 

crop the grass. We then left our ponies, and signing 
to Wynne, who just then hove in sight, that there was 
something ahead, and that he was to catch them, 
hastened up under cover of some brush. By the time 
we reached the tree nearest to them we found the does 
had all got up and fled to some distance, but a splendid 
buck with a very large pair of horns was still lying 
down. At him I fired, and nailed him. He gave one 
spring straight into the air from his bed, fell back into 
the same spot, kicked once or twice convulsively, and 
lay still. I fired the second barrel at a doe and struck 
her, for she "pecked" almost on to her head, but she 
recovered and went on. Out we rushed: "Never 
mind the dead one," shouts Boteler, his face all aglow; 
"let's get the other; she's twice as good, and can't go 
far. You take one side of that clump and I will take 
the other." So off we set, best pace, bursting up the 
hill after the wounded doe. We followed her for half 
an hour, running our level best, and got each a long 
shot, but missed ; and, as she was evidently quite strong, 
we gave up the chase and walked back. 

We found Wynne driving up the ponies; and as 
he appeared to have some little trouble with the poor 
beasts, rendered sulky and ill-tempered by the wet and 
cold, I said to Boteler, "You go down and help him, 
and I will butcher the buck." I had scarcely got the 
words "butcher the buck" out of my mouth, when the 
darned thing, apparently not appreciating my inten- 
tions, came to life, bounded to his feet, sprang into the 
air, coming down all four feet together, and, with his 
legs widely extended, gave a phwit, — a sort of half 
whistle, half snort of surprise, I suppose at his own 
resurrection, — stared a second, and made off. "Shoot, 



294 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Boteler," I cried, "shoot. In Heaven's name, man, 
can't you see the buck?" and I threw up my own rifle 
and missed him of course. "By George," says Boteler, 

wheeling round, "look at the ;" and he let go at 

him with the same result. Wynne yelled and dropped 
the lariats; Boteler ejaculated terrible things; and I 
also, I fear, made use of very cursory remarks. But 
neither for swearing, shouting, nor shooting would he 
stop. He ran about fifty yards, fell on his head and 
rolled over and over, jumped up again, ran one hundred 
yards, pitched head over heels the second time, got up, 
and went down the hill as if he had never felt better 
in his life. 

We followed of course, and wasted an hour in 
searching for him in vain. Never again will I pass a 
beast, however dead he may appear to be, without 
cutting his throat by way of making sure. 

We were all thoroughly disgusted; and as it was 
getting very late, and Wynne and I did not know any- 
thing of the country, we two took a direction that 
would cut the trail, while Boteler persevered and went 
over the other side of the mountain to try one more 
shot. 

By the time we had got down the hillside and skirted 
round the margin of a little reedy lake, it was nearly 
dark, and we had just barely light enough to find the 
trail. We crossed it on the other side of the pond, and 
followed it as fast as we could ; but we had some dif- 
ficulty in finding our way, and did not get in until 
about ten o'clock that night. The expedition was in a 
very sad plight. Another of the horses had given up, 
and Campbell and Maxwell had been obliged to walk 
all day. One or two of the mules had sore backs, and 



TRACKING BACK 295 

could carry only very light loads; the others conse- 
quently were too heavily laden, and the column had 
made but very slow progress. We overtook them just 
before they made camp, and went on ahead. Max- 
well was quite beat and exhausted, poor fellow. He 
was so done up that, in crossing the west fork of 
Gardiner's River, he came mighty near being drowned. 
The water there is not deep, but it rushes violently 
over a bed strewn with round, smooth boulders. Max- 
well, instead of waiting for a horse to be led back to 
him, thought he could ford it on foot. He tried, lost 
his balance, fell, and was swept some distance down 
the stream before he could get his footing again. 
Eventually he was fished out, half choked, by Campbell. 
Wynne and I found both men and beasts dismal and in 
bad humor; but we kept up our spirits, and instilled 
imaginary warmth into our wet and clammy limbs by 
thinking and talking of the great luxury we should 
presently enjoy in the shape of a hot bath at the Springs. 
How delicious it would be, we mutually speculated, to 
lie up to our chins for an hour in the warm, soft, in- 
vigorating water, calmly smoking the calumet of peace* 
Thoughts of supper too at the hotel reconciled us a 
little to our present discomforts. 

We knocked at the door of the hotel, but no answer 
was returned. An ominous darkness enveloped the 
house ; the door was fastened ; we burst it in, but beat a 
hasty retreat from two or three skunks who appeared 
inclined to resent our intrusion. There was not a 
human being in the place; and, when the inhabitants 
had left, they had taken with them every available 
article in the shape of food, drink, and utensils. We 
tried the other shanties, but with a similar result ; there 



296 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

was not a man, woman, or child left in the settlement. 
They had all gone "up the canon or down the valley." 
Our disappointment was acute, for we were in want of 
food, and the only thing in the shape of provision to be 
found was the fag end of a knuckle of ham. This we 
were afraid to touch, thinking it might have been used 
for poisoning rats. The river of course was full of 
trout, but at that time of night it was too late to go 
to it for supper. Wynne looked unutterable things. 
Slowly drawing from his pocket a newspaper cutting, 
and unfolding it, he exclaimed, "Just read* this and look 
around you. Is this abomination of desolation the 
luxurious summer resort mentioned by those un- 
principled prophets in Helena? Can such a gigantic 
fraud have been perpetrated in Virginia ? Exists there 
an advertising medium in Bozeman so base as to 
prostitute its columns to such a vile purpose as the 
deception of the travelers? Are these things really so? 
Or is it only a horrid nightmare? Can there be a 
newspaper so mean as to talk of coaches, horses, hotels, 
stores, and baths that exist not, and delude the unwary 
wayfarer with a piled-up heap of specious crammers? 
According to this document I hold in my hand, the 
weary visitor will find a first-class hotel, a luxurious 
club-house, and several quiet, retired boarding-houses. 
The elegant bathing establishments are under the super- 
vision of one of the most eminent physicians of the 
West. All the luxuries, in and out of season, are to 
be had in abundance, at moderate prices. In fact, the 
innocent individual who trusted to this document would 
have expected to find a sort of Saratoga in the wilds 
of Montana. Only contrast this ideal with the stern 
reality!" 






TRACKING BACK 297 

It certainly was rather a gloomy lookout. The 
Springs presented a very different appearance from the 
highly colored accounts in the advertisements. On our 
former visit there were two or three people in the 
place, and it was possible to get something to eat, for 
the hunters had brought in some elk; but now there 
was not a solitary human being in the whole establish- 
ment. Where were the luxurious bath-houses, the 
commodious club-house, the restaurant, the lodging- 
houses, the eminent physician, and the civil and oblig- 
ing guides, who were willing to convey travelers to the 
geysers and back again for a modest remuneration, or 
to show them herds of wapiti and bands of sheep, and 
do anything and everything to add to their comfort? 

An owl, who might have been the ghost of the 
learned doctor, hooted dismally round the solitary 
shanty — I mean the elegant restaurant; a skunk walked 
disdainfully and slowly, trusting to the prowess of his 
tail, out of the saloon of the hotel; squirrels were the 
only visitors at the club-house. We had to camp as 
best we could upon the bare, dirty floors, and go well 
nigh supperless to bed. We should have fasted alto- 
gether, but for a solitary individual who appeared, very 
late at night, with a string of trout. He was "the last 
rose of summer," and had come back after something 
or other that had been left behind by one of the late 
dwellers at the Springs. 

However, Wynne and I got a candle-end and pro- 
ceeded to the bath-house, determined that we should 
not be done out of that luxury at any rate, and that if 
we were hungry we should at least be clean. We care- 
fully stuck up our little light, and stripped ourselves; 
and Wynne, who was the more expeditious of the two, 



298 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

stepped into the water. With a yell of agony he in- 
stantly drew out his foot, red and scalded. The water 
was nearly boiling hot. There we sat for about half 
an hour, two shivering wretches, waiting in vain ex- 
pectation that the water would cool, for we had plugged 
up the conduit that conducted it to the baths. But it 
did not cool a bit. It is the most provoking, obstinate, 
and peculiar water, so far as its powers of developing 
and maintaining caloric are concerned. It does not 
appear so intensely warm when you first insinuate your 
feet into it, but it seems to get hot all at once, and then 
it becomes hotter and hotter. You may cautiously 
immerse yourself up to the knees without suffering 
much pain; but scarcely are both feet down before 
your legs begin to tingle, and before you can get out 
again you are parboiled, and expect to see the skin peel 
off your shins. So after waiting a long time in vain, 
we were obliged to get into our clothes again; and, 
rather colder and dirtier than before, we walked back 
to the shanty to try and forget our disappointment in 
sleep. 

I did not get much of that, for about three in the 
morning I went up the mountain with Boteler to see 
if we could not get a deer. There is a regular bealoch 
there through which the black-tail pass in great numbers 
at certain times in the year, when moving to and from 
their winter pasturage, and we. expected to be lucky 
enough to come across some, as it was the right time of 
year and the weather had been stormy for the last few 
days ; but, though we walked hard and fast for about 
four or five hours, we did not see anything, not even 
fresh tracks. It was evident that the herds had not 
yet come down. 



TRACKING BACK 299 

We found some fresh trout, and consumed the last of 
our tea and flour for breakfast; and after a somewhat 
scanty meal Wynne and I left, intending to ride into 
Boteler's the same day. Kingsley had started some 
two or three hours before, as his horse was very jaded, 
and he wished to have plenty of time before him. 

We got along very pleasantly, leading our ponies up 
and down the steep places and saving them all in our 
power. We had not gone many miles, however, before 
we ^pied Kingsley J s horse standing with his head down 
and his legs very far apart, propping himself up as if 
he was afraid of falling, a miserable and dejected-look- 
ing object. Close at hand, his rider was peacefully 
reclining in a sage-brush, philosophically smoking. 
His horse, he said, could not go a step further, and he 
would wait where he was until the outfit came up. 
In order to lighten his load he had left his gun behind, 
and he said in consequence scores of antelope had suf- 
fered him to approach quite close to them. Reflecting 
that his fate was not unlikely to overtake us also, we 
gave him some tobacco and our blessings, and proceeded 
on our way. We saw a great many antelope that day ; 
but as we were close to the end of our journey, and our 
horses moreover were so beat that it would have been 
unwise to give them any extra; work to do, and as the 
day was scarcely long enough for the journey we had 
to make, we did not take the trouble to try and kill 
anything. 

We therefore made the best of our way along our 
old trail, galloping cheerily over the level, and walking 
and driving our horses before us over all the steep 
places; keeping a lookout for Indians, but not troub- 
ling our heads about game. Just about sunset we 



300 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

passed the corral, and saw that most marvelous old 
dame, Mrs. Boteler — marvelous for the sprightliness 
with which she bears the burden of her many years — 
busily engaged milking her cows; a sight that was 
highly refreshing and suggestive of luxurious feeling. 
A few minutes afterwards we pulled up at the ranch 
and were heartily greeted by Phil Boteler, who, warmly 
bidding us to get right off, and sit right down, and 
not trouble ourselves about the stock, for he would 
manage all that, put chairs for us, called in his mother, 
and went out to drive our tired horses down to pasture. 
What a refreshing wash we had! And how we did 
enjoy our supply of fresh eggs, chicken, cream, butter 
and cheese, and plenty of Japan tea! Honestly tired 
we were and heartily glad to have got to the end of our 
troubles. 

We had brought to a safe termination a most enjoy- 
able expedition, the pleasant recollections of which will 
never fade from my memory; but we had also experi- 
enced a somewhat rough time. Our horses and mules 
were scarcely up to the work; we had been greatly 
hurried; we were unfortunate as regards weather, and 
still more unlucky in not getting half enough game to 
keep us properly supplied. So the pleasures of the trip 
were mixed up with just enough hardship to make the 
return to civilization exceedingly pleasant. 

We lay at Boteler's for three days, full up to our eyes 
of hominy, milk, and other products of the dairy and 
the farm. We also managed to get hold of some 
whisky, and not very bad whisky either. The evening 
of our arrival Wynne and I noticed a keg, but, fearing 
that our honesty might not prove equal to the tempta- 
tion which a conversation on the subject would have 



TRACKING BACK 301 

held out, we avoided the cask and the topic, and asked 
no questions about it. We thought that if we re- 
sisted the Devil he would "flee from us." We did re- 
sist that keg manfully, but it did not budge an inch. 
The next day Jack came in and hovered round it like 
a hungry fish about a hook, getting bolder all the time. 
Finally he tapped it to see if it was full, and found it 
was. It gurgled pleasantly when he shook it, and that 
gurgle finished Jack. He asked Boteler "what it was 
anyhow?" and Boteler replied it was some of the best 
w^hisky that could be got in Bozeman. Upon which 
Jack looked unutterable things and walked away, 
speedily returning to renew the interesting conversation. 
It turned out that the keg was on its way to the man 
who used to live at the Hot Springs. "But," we all 
cried in a breath, "there is nobody at the Springs at 
all." "Well," said Boteler, "I don't know anything 
about that. It was left here for me to send on by the 
first chance. I don't suppose there will be any chance 
now till next spring; and, if you fellows feel like tak- 
ing some and leaving ten dollars a gallon for it, I don't 
know that there will be any great harm done ; but you 
must take it on your own responsibility." Jack was 
quite willing to take it on his own responsibility; and 
it was not long before there was an auger-hole in the 
head of that cask. 

Although we had made a decidedly successful trip, 
having accomplished all that we had resolved upon, and 
having seen all or nearly all we had intended to see, 
yet in the hunting line we had done very little. It is 
true that we had devoted little time to the noble pas- 
time, but we were rather disappointed at the results. 
With the exception of one grizzly and three wapiti, 



302 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

we had nothing to show as evidence of our adventures. 
I felt that we ought to have a good mountain-sheep 
head to take down with us; and I determined, as the 
weather was still open, to move up into the mountain 
to a locality where Ovis montana was reported to be 
tolerably numerous. 

Accordingly, when we had sufficiently recruited our- 
selves and our horses, I moved the whole party up a 
creek running from the westward into the Yellow- 
stone. 

The trail was easy at first, and we got along very 
pleasantly, winding our devious way along the foot- 
hills; but presently the creek cafioned, and we were 
compelled to keep down close to the water's edge. The 
rich soil bordering the stream was thickly bristling 
with a dense growth of cottonwood and aspen, their 
branches matted and interwoven with various vines. 
The signs of many a winter's storm were apparent in 
the leaning trees arrested in their fall by their stronger 
brethren, and the ground was strewn and littered with 
prostrate trunks. Through this mass, more like a 
gigantic cobweb than anything else, we had to thrust 
ourselves; and such a falling of beasts, swearing of 
men, upsetting of packs, and smashing of branches, I 
have seldom seen. 

Hot and breathless, our eyes full of dust and our 
shirts of bits of dry stick which had showered them- 
selves down our backs, we at last burst through the 
gorge, and emerging into the fresh air pursued a course 
along the hills, until, a little before dark, we came to 
a beautiful camping-ground, nicely sheltered and af- 
fording plenty of wood and grass. But, alas! no 
water was to be found, except that which was descend- 



TRACKING BACK 303 

ing most bountifully and disagreeably from heaven; 
and we were compelled to descend to the creek bottom. 

The next day four of us started early to explore the 
tops. The ascent was very steep and fatiguing, but by 
no means difficult, though there were of course a few 
bad places. In one of these Campbell and I got stuck. 
We could get up, using hands, feet, and eyelids, but 
could not carry our guns with us. Fortunately the 
bad step was not very long, and by utilizing all avail- 
able compass-cords, whistle-strings, belts, and handker- 
chiefs, we were enabled to make a rope long enough to 
reach from top to bottom. So I climbed up first, and 
having reached a secure place, much to my own satis- 
faction, let down our improvised rope and hauled up 
the two rifles one by one, after which Campbell 
clambered up. Careful climbing thenceforth enabled 
us to overcome all difficulties ; and, the crowning ridge 
once reached, all trouble was at an end. 

The mountains here do not consist of isolated peaks, 
but are for the most part connected by a narrow ridge 
composed of slate very much tilted, the strata being 
occasionally quite perpendicular, sometimes inclined to 
one side and sometimes to the other. Along this con- 
necting crest of a foot or two feet in breadth you can 
walk for miles, bending and turning in all directions, 
for the range does not seem to possess any method or 
order, but to consist of just a jumbled up mass of moun- 
tains. In this range the principal valleys run east and 
west, towards the Madison in the first case, and the 
Yellowstone in the other. The summits rise now and 
then to elevations perhaps 200 or 300 feet above the 
average level of the ridge, but they can generally be 
surmounted without much difficulty. Occasionally 



304 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

you meet with a peak of rugged, massive rock, which 
bars the passage and necessitates a detour. Having 
once ascended the chain, you can thus, without much 
further climbing, get a fine view of the valleys and 
slopes. In this way two men, one taking one side and 
his companion watching the other, can with good glasses 
survey a great deal of ground, and well rewarded for 
their trouble they probably will be both in game and 
scenery. 

The general configuration of the country is, as be- 
fore stated, a great jumble of mountains, bounded by 
the Madison on the one side, and by the Yellowstone on 
the other. 

Flowing into these rivers are numerous creeks and 
streams, which in their turn are fed by smaller creeks 
and branches, entering them generally at right angles 
to their course, and draining through most picturesque 
valleys and gorges the snows which never melt entirely 
from the summits. 

Ascending from the foot-hills along the boundary 
ridge of one of these valleys, we wound our way, first 
through dense woods, and, after climbing over or 
skirting round steep cliffs, along more level ground, — 
the ridge becoming narrower and more knife-like, and 
the vegetation more stunted and scanty as we proceeded, 
— we emerged from the region of trees altogether, 
and, after traversing in single file a tract of bare slate, 
stood upon what was evidently one of the highest points 
of the range. By a slight difficulty in getting suffi- 
cient breath, by the deliciously cool, clear, exhilarating 
air, we rightly judged we had climbed to a consider- 
able elevation above the sea, and we gladly sat down to 
rest and look about us. 



TRACKING BACK 305 

All around peaks and crags, bare, savage, and storm- 
tormented, surged up in constantly recurring waves. 
The scene was utterly desolate and wild, yet man had 
trodden these riven rocks before; for at my feet lay a 
chipped obsidian spear-head or scraper, dropped per- 
haps ages ago by some wandering savage hunting the 
goats and sheep scarcely wilder than himself. The 
ground immediately about us was covered with slate 
debris curiously encrusted with a substance resembling 
a coating of dirty frozen snow, 

The head of the valley may be described as a fell. 
Large patches of snow lie upon it, hard and frozen on 
the north side, but melting fast and distributing 
Quantities of mud and small stones where exposed to 
the powerful sun. A little further down, the whole 
of one slope of the valley is covered with loose stones, 
constantly falling, making a very nasty and dangerous 
ground to walk upon, for if you with incautious steps 
set a portion of it in motion, the whole hillside starts 
and moves in a mass. A little below timber line, 
which in these latitudes is about 11,000 feet above sea- 
level, the upper part of the valley forms a sort of 
basin ; and in the bottom of this depression nestle three 
calm, unruffled little lakes, sheltered by stunted pine 
trees, and surrounded with a carpeting of short sweet 
pasture. They communicate with one another, and 
finally lip over in a tiny rill, which, first trickling 
through grass and Alpine flowers, and gathering 
strength and courage on its course, goes foaming and 
leaping down precipices, rushing noisily through the cool 
shadows of the forest, until it mingles its icy waters 
with the creek on which we are encamped below. 

As the valley spreads out, the mountains on either 



306 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

side throw back their shoulders and rear their hoary 
heads towards the sky, depelling the cloudy tresses 
from their summits capped with snow. Then an in- 
terval of fell occurs, and then comes the timber strug- 
gling to ascend. And so the valley expands and the 
mountain masses break up, throwing out great naked 
promontories, wooded spurs and huge castellated cliffs, 
till they merge into the blue undulations of the foot- 
hills, which look in the shimmering autumn haze like 
a great heaving, restless sea of pines. 

Turn right round; walk a few steps, and you will 
see another valley and lake beneath you, and a stream 
flowing in the opposite direction. We are on the 
divide between the Yellowstone and the Missouri, and 
the panorama unrolled on either side cannot easily be 
surpassed on the continent of North America. I wish 
I could convey to my readers a just impression of a 
scene of such excellent beauty that I never can forget 
it. It is only necessary for me to close my eyes to see 
it in all its graceful details of wood, water, valley, field, 
and cliff. But so exceedingly lovely is the view that I 
should consider it scandalous to pollute so fair a memory 
by clumsy and unavailing efforts at description. 

But as I sat soaking myself in sunshine, inhaling the 
joyous air, and reveling in the scenery, with a sudden 
start I become aware of something moving on the op- 
posite face. 

Out with the glass! Yes! there are one, two, three, 
by George! sixteen sheep, quietly feeding. "Any big 
ones among them? ,, says Boteler. I screw the glass in 
a trifle, and steady my elbows well on the ground, for 
I am lying at full length ventre a terre, and drawing a 
deep breath reply, "Ne'er a big horn; all young rams 



TRACKING BACK 307 

or ewes. See how they are all skylarking, butting at 
one another, and jumping about." "No use going 
after them anyhow," drawls Jack; "but I can see two 
other bands;" and so in truth they were, a small party 
of three sheep crossing the stream far below, and twelve 
more moving slowly along close to the lake beneath us. 
But there did not appear to be a good head among 
them all. 

As we looked at the herd by the lake, suddenly they 
all spread out like a lot of minnows when you drop a 
pebble in the midst of the shoal, and darted up the 
mountain falling into single file, stopping occasionally 
to look back, and then bounding up with inconceivable 
rapidity. Why, in a few minutes they were up the 
mountain and over the ridge; — a good day's work for 
a miserable man who would follow them. What on 
earth could have scared them ? There was nothing in 
view and nothing came in sight. 

"Well, boys," says Jack, "there's no use in fooling 
around here all day. Let's go ahead and try and strike 
something." So shaking ourselves together, we started 
again, Jack and Boteler on one slope, Campbell and I 
on the other, carefully examining the ground on either 
side for sign. 

We had not gone far before I threw up my head, 
like a hound, sniffed violently, and swore I could smell 
sheep quite plain. Campbell smiled incredulously. 
Because he could not feel the smell, he would not be- 
lieve that I could be endowed with a keener nose. But 
I was right, for a few yards further on we came upon 
the beds the sheep had slept in the night past, found 
where they had been feeding a short time before, and 
discovered the quite fresh track of four big rams. 



308 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Fatigue was forgotten ; every sense seemed quickened ; 
and I became aware that I had a heart beating rather 
violently, as Campbell whispered, "Tread light; they 
must be close by somewhere, lying down likely." So 
we cautiously crossed the ridge, stooping very low to 
inform our companions that they were close to game. 
While we were running along as fast as our bent posi- 
tion would admit, crack! went a rifle ever so far in 
front of us, followed by a rattling of stones ; and pres- 
ently appears Jack, trying to look as if nothing had 
happened. He had walked right into the herd and 
fired, killing nothing, but wounding one. Campbell 
and I were silent, but our thoughts were powerful. 

We had not proceeded more than half a mile when, 
looking back, I saw Boteler apparently stark, staring 
mad. He was gingerly, but with much gesticulation 
of his legs, running over the rocks as if they were red- 
hot, his eyes staring, his face working with excitement, 
his mouth open as he were yelling, but no sound com- 
ing therefrom, and his hands going like the arms of an 
old semaphore. When he got close he shouted in a 
whisper, "Bighorns! bighorns! twelve or fourteen of 
them! quite close! this way! come on!" Grabbing him 
by the shirt-sleeve, I said, "For Heaven's sake don't 
excite yourself; let me stalk this lot myself; you and 
Jack keep well behind us, and don't on any account 
show until I have fired." So Campbell and I started. 
How well I remember my sensations! How my heart 
beat! One's circulation is rather queer at those high 
altitudes; and Boteler had said there were very large 
rams in the herd; and good specimens of mountain 
sheep are rare. What infernal walking it was to be 
sure, all loose slates and stones, over which a cat could 



TRACKING BACK 309 

not have passed without displacing some and making a 
noise. 

Cautiously but swiftly, as if treading on eggs, we 
stepped, well covered by the ridge, till we thought we 
must be nearly opposite the band; and then, crawling 
to the top, I motioned Campbell to look over. 

With eyes contracted, nostrils dilated, and lip quiver- 
ing, inch by inch he raised his head. Down it dropped 
again; and, without a word, he slid back feet first. I 
followed his example; and, when well under cover 
again he whispered, "Two hundred yards further on, 
feeding up; we must be quick and catch them before 
they cross the ridge; go ahead you now." So away I 
went, till with a pull at my coat-tail Campbell signed 
to me to crawl up. 

Mercy! How sharp the stones were just there! 
How they did cut one's knees and elbows ; and what a 
nice thing a round, compact young prickly-pear — some- 
thing like a pincushion stuck full of barbed needles, 
points out — is to place the palm of one's hand on with 
the whole weight of one's body resting on it! 

As I got near the top I began to think, "Goodness! 
what a noise my heart is making; enough to scare all 
the sheep in the country! How hot-I am, and there's 
a great drop of perspiration run into my eye! I 
wonder whether the sheep are to the right or left of 
me. Had I better crawl up and try and get a lying 
shot, or rise up suddenly at the top and pitch both 
barrels into them? What an infernal steep place this 
is to get up! There, now, you great fool, you've 
clicked your gun-barrel against that stone, and it's all 
over. Hark at that idiot behind. If he hasn't sent a 
stone clattering down the face! Confound these slate 



310 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

flakes, how they do cut!" At last I could level my 
eyes over the ridge. Cautiously I took off my hat and 
peered all round. Not a single solitary beast was 
there in sight, but I could hear them grazing and cough- 
ing, so close were they. I did not know what to do. 
I looked back. Campbell was lying flat, occasionally 
squinting at me with an agonized expression of counte- 
nance, and then dropping his face between his hands 
as though muttering an incantation to some private 
Highland family devil. A little further back were 
Jack and Boteler squatting, guns ready, eyes staring, 
both looking as if saying, "Why the blazes don't you 
shoot, or do something ?" 

The eyes of Europe and America were upon me, and 
I felt aghast and uncertain how to act. If I stayed 
where I was I should of course get a shot at the lead- 
ing sheep; but probably it would be a ewe, and she 
would be bound to see me. Could I only get to that 
dwarf juniper-bush some thirty yards down the slope 
before they came in view, I should be all right. 

I determined to chance it, and, Campbell being beck- 
oned to, we rapidly wriggled, after the manner of ser- 
pents, towards the bush. Scarcely had we crept into 
the friendly cover when a ewe stepped into full view, 
and, feeding quietly, passed so close I could have al- 
most touched her with my gun. Fortunately the wind 
blew strong, and she did not notice us. Another and 
another followed, till eight or nine sheep were in sight, 
and not a good head among them. How slowly they 
did pass! Sometimes one would look right at us. I 
could see straight into its eyes, and it appeared im- 
possible but that the beast would distinguish us also. 



TRACKING BACK 311 

How motionless we lay ! A photographer would have 
been charmed with us. We scarcely dared to breathe 
or wink. The suspense was awful. I felt hot and 
cold alternately all over, and began to get the buck- 
ague to such an unbearable extent that I felt as if I 
must let go at something and before long, when at last 
out stepped a great ragged-skinned old ram. I need 
scarcely say that, whereas all the others had presented 
fair broadside shots, this one most unceremoniously 
offered me his tail, and would not turn around. 

At last I caught sight of his shoulder through a little 
opening in the branches, and let him have it. With 
one bound he disappeared. "Missed, by Jove!" I 
heard from behind me; and then such a row as there 
was! I jumped up and fired the second barrel at some- 
thing, I don't know what ; but I noticed a sheep stumble 
onto his head, get up again and plunge down the hill. 
Campbell let drive into the brown of them; Jack and 
Boteler too ran up and fired a volley; and then the 
latter rushed down the slope after the wounded ram, 
which by this time was going very short. I also pur- 
sued, and should have had a fair shot at him, for on 
entering a belt of timber he stopped and stood looking 
at us for some seconds ; but unfortunately Boteler was 
in an exact line with the beast; and, though I swore 
that if he did not lie down I would shoot through him, 
he did not pay the slightest attention to me, but con- 
tinued running till he had got his gun loaded, when he 
fired and missed the ram. 

Poor Boteler came back very disconsolate, for he 
supposed we had got nothing; but I knew better, and 
reassured him ; for I felt certain that I could not have 



312 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

missed, and sure enough we found the sheep as dead 
as Julius Caesar, lying doubled up in a bush within 
twenty yards oi the cover from which I had fired. 

When they got to the bottom of the gulch four of 
the rams bunched up together, and stood five or six 
hundred yards off gazing at us. We all sat down and 
had some very pretty practice, for they let us fire in all 
five or six shots before they made off. When the 
bullets struck the ground they would all jump straight 
up into the air, run a few yards, and gather up to- 
gether again. It is hard to judge distance across a 
valley; and as they moved at each shot we could not 
get the range, and killed nothing; and they, after 
satisfying themselves that it was about time to quit, 
broke into a steady run, crossed the valley and plain, 
and went away up another mountain and over it with- 
out stopping to look back. 

Thereupon Jack volunteered to fetch one of the 
ponies up as near the scene of action as possible, and 
said he would afterwards look for the sheep he had 
wounded in the morning. Campbell and Boteler took 
a diverging ridge and followed it in hopes of finding an- 
other herd, and I continued along the crest on which 
we had found our game; but, seeing no fresh sign, I 
soon came back, and, like a dissatisfied idiot, must 
needs go down the gulch to look for the wounded 
sheep. 

It was the steepest place I ever climbed without go- 
ing on all-fours. I went down in about ten minutes, 
jumping in the loose gravel and then sliding; but it 
took me a good hour and a half to get up again. I 
had no chance to trail my sheep, for the ground was 
completely covered with tracks, and I could not hit 



TRACKING BACK 313 

off the right one ; but with a dog I might have got him, 
and he was a big one. I was so thirsty when I got 
back to the top that I was obliged to make a little fire, 
melt some snow, and have a small tot of cold grog; 
after which refreshment Boteler and Campbell, who 
had joined me, and myself turned to, skinned the sheep, 
cut off his head, and carried the hide and skull till we 
found the pony; when we packed them on his un- 
willing back and, tired but contented, made the best of 
our way to camp. 



CHAPTER XII 

BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 

AFTER much consultation round the camp-fire 
that night, and the consumption of a great deal 
of tobacco, for opinions were different on the sub- 
ject, we decided to move camp; and the next day, hav- 
ing retraced our steps some five or six miles, we struck 
up a long heavily timbered spur of the range, and 
having ascended as far as was practicable for the ani- 
mals, camped in a most picturesque spot and drove the 
beasts down to pasture below. The country looked a 
very hunter's paradise, and is reported to swarm with 
black-tail deer when they are moving to or from their 
winter quarters in the spring or fall. We ought to 
have found them. I cannot say I expected to find 
them, for I have invariably observed on these occasions 
that there is something wrong with the weather or 
the year. It is a very early season, or the latest that 
ever was known ; there never was so much snow on the 
range, or who ever supposed that the mountains would 
not be white by this time ? The oldest inhabitant will 
be dog-goned if he ever remembered such weather. 
Bill will turn to Hank, and he with many oaths will 
corroborate his statements that this time last year every 
bush held a buck. Jim will, with profuse expectora- 
tion, give it as his opinion that the present is the very 
worst time in the year, and that if you were only there 
in the spring, when the deer begin to move westward, 
314 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 315 

you would be tired of shooting at them. "Elk did you 
say?" he will answer to your inquiries as to wapiti; 
"you bet your life there's elk. Did not Joe What's- 
his-name and I sit right down on that bad worded 
peak there and shoot seven big bulls without ever mov- 
ing? Bears is it? Lord you should be here in the 
spring when they first come out hungry! Why, you 
couldn't walk three steps then without meeting one. 

Now you may look till freezes over and never see 

a bear." And so on; it is the same story everywhere, 
in all quarters of the globe, and among all people. 
What says the Emerald Islander in reply to the indig- 
nant query of some disappointed Saxon who has hired 
a shooting in the wilds of Ballybog, and who, weary 
and disgusted, has just emerged out of fifty acres of 
morass through which he has been plunging up to the 
chin, and which have not afforded him a single shot? 
"Well, my good man," says he to Paddy leaning com- 
placently on his spade, "can you tell me if there are 
ever any snipe in this infernal bog?" "Is it snipe? 
Sure your honor's joking. It does be full up with 
snipe; the sun do be darkened with them; but it is a 
little early yet in the season." "Oh, indeed, too early 
is it? Any ducks here?" "Ducks! Is it ducks? 
Begorra, the place do be crawling with them if there 
was the least taste in life of frost ; maybe it's ducks you 
see ; 'tis wishing them out of it you'd be for the noise of 
them." "Dear me! And do you get any barometers 
here?" "Faix, then, we do get an odd one at all times; 
but, if your honor would come quietly — very quietly — 
in the dark of the moon, the place would be alive with 
them." 

And have we ever gone barbel-fishing, or roach- 



316 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

fishing, or any other kind of fishing, without hearing 
that in that very pitch only last Tuesday two gentle- 
men caught so many tons of fish; our stock, however, 
consisting at the end of the day of some flat beer, a 
great many crawling gentles and other abominable 
beasts, and a few, a very few, small fishes? 

And so it was in this case. The deer had not come 
down. In vain we wandered over the foot-hills ; softly 
with moccasined feet trod the mazes of the forest, or 
rode over the swelling surface of the rolling prairie. 
But what a pleasant wandering it was! Sometimes 
through parks dotted with giant hemlocks, rearing their 
ruddy, rugged stems to heaven, and filling the air with 
fragrance and with the low cadence of their song as 
the wind murmured melodies to the branches, and the 
boughs whispered back to the breeze. I could sit for 
hours under one of those splendid trees, gazing up into 
its sturdy branches, wondering at the colony of life 
among them — the insects, the birds, and squirrels, and 
watching the chipmunks hard at work throwing down 
fir cones and burying the seeds. I love a squirrel, he 
is such a jolly little beast, and so active withal. Al- 
ways busy, always happy, and full of larks, he manages 
to instil into the every-day routine of his life any 
amount of fun and good-humor. If men would only 
follow his example, and go through their business with 
his cheerfulness, and take the same comical, humorous 
view of life that he does, the world would move with 
about half the moral friction that now stops its prog- 
ress and wears out our lives. 

Sometimes we passed through glades of aspen shiver- 
ing in the autumn breeze; across little sparkling 
streams, on whose white sandy beaches merrily danced 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE 55 317 

the shadows of the broad, flickering poplar leaves, and 
through whose glancing waters darted numerous red- 
spotted trout; through dark aisles of the forest, chill, 
mysterious, solemn, filled with a silence which seems to 
awe and subdue every living thing save and except the 
irrepressible squirrel, who, impudently chattering with 
rage at your intrusion, waves defiance with erected 
tail ; then out into a prairie, under the full blaze of the 
sun, cheerful and bright, instinct with insect life, full 
of chirpings, hummings, hoppings and sometimes, if 
truth be told, of bitings also. 

In vain we climbed the mountains, scaled giddy prec- 
ipices, penetrating the range to the head waters of 
Trail Creek, and other streams flowing to the Madison 
River. Not a thing did we see except a few small 
sheep, two of which Jack shot, two or three antelopes 
as wild as hawks, and the dead carcass of a bear. 

So one afternoon, coming in tired and disgusted, we 
suddenly determined to go back to Boteler's, and, hastily 
packing up, started for the ranch. Jack was the only 
one of the party absent, but leaving a square drink of 
whisky suspended in a -flask from a tree with an intima- 
tion of where we had gone, we abandoned him to his 
fate. It was a pitch dark night; but Jack, guided by 
the instinct of an old prairie man, had no difficulty in 
finding his way, and joined us long before we reached 
Boteler's bearing on his saddle a quarter of lamb. 

We remained a day at the ranch in order to clean up, 
and arrange for the transportation of our trophies; of 
which we were reasonably proud, for all the natives 
agreed that the heads of two out of the three wapiti, 
and the ram's head, were the finest specimens that they 
had seen for a long time. The taye, bighorn, or 



318 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

mountain sheep (Caprovis canadensis) *£s a splendid 
beast. There is nothing whatever sheeplike about him, 
except in the shape and appearance of the horns and 
face. His form resembles that of a large black-tail 
buck, but is much thicker, sturdier, and more majestic. 
The hair is like that of a deer, only longer and thicker 
in texture; it has, when the coat is in good condition, 
a slightly bluish tint, and the fibers are very closely set 
together. The connection between the wild sheep and 
our domestic varieties is chiefly shown in the appearance 
and quality of the flesh, which looks and tastes like 
most excellent mutton. Without exception it is the 
best meat that the mountains afford. The bighorn is 
very white behind, and seems as if he had been sitting 
in the snow. Sometimes the whole skin is white; and 
this does not depend upon the time of year, for I once 
killed an almost white ewe in Colorado in the month 
of June. The slot is squarer than that of a deer of 
equal size, and not nearly so pointed at the toes. Both 
sexes have horns, those of a full-grown ewe being 
about the same size as those of a two-year-old ram. 
Sheep generally run in bands of from five or six to 
twenty or thirty, with the exception of very old rams, 
who are solitary in their habits, and usually betake 
themselves entirely alone to some secluded ridge backed 
by the highest peaks of the range, to which they can 
retreat in case of danger. The rutting season varies, 
of course, somewhat according to the locality and cli- 
mate; it occurs about the same time as that of the 
deer. They drop their young about April. In Colo- 
rado, where I have chiefly observed their habits, the 
ewes separate from the rams in the winter or early 
spring, and go down among the lower foot-hills al- 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 319 

most to the plains ; while the males at that time betake 
themselves to the high mountains, where they remain 
in spite of wind, frost and snow. Very severe weather 
will, however, sometimes drive them down ; and I have 
met with a large band of rams in thick timber in Estes 
Park during a midwinter's storm. About June and 
July you will meet with the ewes returning to their 
mountain homes, accompanied by their lambs. Very 
pretty little creatures the young ones are. I once 
caught one, about two months old, in Estes Park after a 
severe chase, and succeeded in carrying it to the ranch, 
where I had hoped to rear and tame it; but the poor 
little thing died in spite of all my care. They are not 
difficult to domesticate, I believe. A ram of about 
seven years old carries a fine head. To see such a one 
bounding hundreds of feet above you, along the verge 
of a precipitous cliff, or standing on some jutting crag, 
with his head thrown back a little, as gracefully and 
easily poised upon his massive shoulders as though those 
huge horns weighed no more than a feather, and with 
his feet gathered up ready for a spring, is a sight worth 
going a long journey to see. He is a noble animal, 
worthy of the grand scenery of the mountain ranges 
among whose peaks and precipices he loves to dwell. 

The bighorn is closely allied to the argali or Asiatic 
wild sheep (Caprovis argali). In fact, as far as 
general appearance goes, they are indistinguishable one 
from the other; but I suppose minute differences, suf- 
ficient to constitute a variety, do exist. The moufflon, 
or European variety, is a much smaller animal than the 
American or Asiatic sheep. The only noticeable dif- 
ference between the argali and taye lies in point of size. 
I do not think that the latter ever attains to as large 



320 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

proportions as the former. The British Museum pos- 
sesses a gigantic specimen of the argali; the horns of 
which are beautifully shaped, and measure 48 inches 
in length, following the curve, and are 19 inches in 
circumference of the burr. I do not believe there exists 
a specimen of the bighorn equal to that. The best 
American head that I have seen belonged to the ram 
whose death I have attempted to describe. I took the 
dimensions at Boteler's ranch, and found them to be as 
follows: — Weight of the head thoroughly cleaned, 
cut off at the first joint of the neck, but with the skin 
of the neck left on as far almost as the shoulder, 40 lbs. ; 
circumference of horns, measuring just above the hair 
and following the hair round, 21 inches. I did not at 
that time note the length of the horns. 

But either the measuring tape at Boteler's must have 
been very much in fault, or, what is more probable, 
the horns have shrunk a good deal; for, on taking the 
dimensions now, I find that, following the curve, the 
right horn measures 38 inches long, and the left horn 
36; and they are 17^ and 17 inches respectively in cir- 
cumference, following the hair and measuring just 
above it. The weight cannot now be obtained, as the 
head is affixed to a wooden shield. The finest specimen 
in the British Museum is almost identical with the 
last-named in size; the horns measuring 17 inches 
round the burr, and 36 inches in length along the 
curve. 

The largest example mentioned in Lord Southesk's 
book, "Saskatchewan," measured 42 inches in length. 

It will be seen that none of these American sheep are 
nearly equal, in point of size, to the Asiatic specimen 
first mentioned. 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 321 

Unlike those of deer, the horns of mountain sheep 
are not shed annually; but they certainly are occasion- 
ally cast, whether as the result of accident or disease I 
know not ; for I have picked them up lying quite alone, 
and have searched in vain for any skull to which they 
could have belonged. They appear to be in their 
prime when the animal is from six to eight years old. 
I doubt if they increase in girth much after that; but, 
even if they do grow larger, their symmetry is sure to 
be spoiled, for the horns of very old rams become scaly, 
and invariably are much damaged and broken about 
the points by fighting and falling among rocks. 

There are legends to the effect that the bighorn does 
cast himself incontinently down precipices of vast 
height, and, falling on his horns, bounds up again into 
the air like an India-rubber ball, alighting unhurt upon 
his feet, much to the surprise of the baffled hunter; 
who, however, if he believes in such tales, might con- 
fidently cast himself down after the sheep, imitating 
its maneuvers and alighting also on his head, for wood 
is hard and elastic, and he would likewise bound up 
and down to the detriment, perhaps, of the rocks, but 
not of his own skull. 

It is marvelous what stories are told and created 
about game. I have frequently heard it gravely as- 
serted by people who, I am sure, were incapable of tell- 
ing a deliberate falsehood, and who believed in the fact 
themselves, that it was not uncommon to find a wapiti 
head of such dimensions that, when the antlers were 
placed upright, their tips resting on the ground, a full- 
sized man could walk between them without stooping 
his head or touching the skull. This has been told me 
scores and scores of times, as a sort of rough general 



322 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

way of estimating the size of a wapiti stag; and I 
might have ended by believing and repeating the tale 
myself, if I had not actual measurements to oppose its 
adoption. There are no very good specimens of wapiti 
heads in the British Museum ; nothing so large as some 
that I have in my own possession ; I therefore took the 
measurement of one of my Montana stags having very 
long horns, though in other respects it is not particu- 
larly large. The dimensions are as follows: — Cir- 
cumference of horn at the burr, 12 inches; circum- 
ference of beam above brow-antler, 7^4 > length of tip 
to beam along the curve, 56 inches; distance between 
the outer tips, 45 inches; ditto middle tips, 34 inches; 
ditto inner tips, 29 inches ; length of brow-antler nearest 
the skull, 12 inches; ditto furthest from the skull, 15 
inches; distance between tips of brow-antlers nearest 
the skull, 3 inches ; ditto furthest from skull, 24 inches ; 
number of points, 14. 

From Mr. Ward, 1 I obtained the following measure- 
ments of the largest wapiti head in his establishment : — 
Circumference of horn at the burr, 1 1 inches ; circum- 
ference of beam above brow-antler, 8 inches; length 
from tip to beam along the curve, 54 inches; distance 
between the outer tips, 49^ inches; ditto middle tips, 
41 y 2 inches; ditto inner tips, 31 y 2 inches; length of 
brow-antler nearest the skull, 16^ inches; ditto 
furthest from skull, 17 inches; distance between tips 
of brow-antlers nearest the skull, 16 inches; ditto 
furthest from skull, 26 inches; points, 14. 

These heads are, as will be seen by comparing their 
measurements, almost identical in size; and either of 

*I learned that a much larger head had passed through 
his hands, of which no record was kept. 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 323 

them may be safely taken as a fair specimen of a large 
wapiti stag. I selected my stag for trying the experi- 
ment with, because his horns were somewhat the longer 
of the two, and I found that, when placed upright, the 
tips just resting on the ground, a line dropped from the 
skull at the center of the burr to the ground measured 
42 inches in length. Now, three feet six inches would 
be the stature of a very short man; and thirty inches, 
added to the length of the perpendicular line, would 
necessitate a prodigious increase in the size and weight 
of the antlers, out of proportion to the endowments of 
any species of deer now existing. 

The next day saw us started, — this time, thank good- 
ness, with our plunder in a wagon — to Trail Creek, 
bound on a wild moose chase. 

Now the moose is "the most subtle of all the beasts 
of the field" (the serpent has no right to claim that 
proud distinction) ; and to hunt him, save under most 
favorable circumstances, is labor lost. Circumstances 
were adverse to us. We had plenty of snow when we 
did not want it. Now we would have given a good 
deal for the fall of a few inches, and there appeared 
no chance whatever of it. The nights were getting 
very cold, but every day the sun rose bright and warm 
in a cloudless sky. Still as it appeared certain that 
there were some moose in the country, we thought it 
a pity not to give Fortune an opportunity of doing us 
a good turn. The result of the expedition was that 
Campbell and I covered ourselves with ridicule as with 
a blanket. 

It fell out in this wise. Be it known, in the first 
place, that the hunting-ground was a very large de- 
pression extending ?n numerous valleys far back into the 



324 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

mountains, drained by Trail Creek, Bozeman Creek, 
and other smaller tributary rills. On these streams the 
beavers had been for ages busy, damming the waters 
back and forming swamps, in which willows, the 
favorite food of the moose, luxuriantly grow. The 
general surface is covered with an almost impenetrable 
crop of dry, brittle, diminutive pines. 

On the very first day, Boteler, Campbell and I went 
out together and found plenty of old sign, and the 
tracks. of two bulls, not more than a week old (I refer 
to the age of the tracks, not of the bulls). The second 
day, Boteler being anxious to "play a lone hand," 
Campbell and I went out together and very soon struck 
the fresh trail of a young bull descending the creek to- 
wards Bozeman, right down wind. We followed it 
some distance, and then taking different sides of the 
valley searched carefully to see if he had passed up 
again. We crossed no return trail, but discovered a 
pretty little lake or pond called Surprise Lake. I had 
been told that it was unfathomable! In one sense it 
is so, for nowhere could you get a fathom deep; the 
greatest depth being, I should say, two feet, and the 
average twelve inches. The water is perfectly clear, 
and the bottom is soft mud. It is inhabited by many 
trout, who swim about like young sharks with their 
back fins out, there being scarcely water enough to 
cover them. I caught a couple of dozen for supper. 
The mode of capture is somewhat peculiar. 

To secure these unsophisticated fish, it is not at all 
necessary to be especially prepared for that species of 
sport. A string, a hook, and a knife constitute a com- 
plete fishing outfit. You cut a long pole, attach a cord 
to the end, tie a hook onto the cord, and on the hook 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 325 

fix a fragment of your luncheon — if fat pork so much 
the better. This bait you then hurl out into the still 
water with a great and unavoidable splash, thereby 
causing much commotion among the fish, who fly for 
refuge under the fallen trees and stumps that fringe the 
pond. Presently they emerge, and all those that espy 
the bait swim at it like atoms attracted to a magnet, at 
first slowly, and then with ever-increasing swiftness. 
The smartest trout gets the pork, and you heave him 
out of water. If you are lucky, he falls on the ground ; 
if you are not, he lodges and immediately tangles him- 
self up in the top of a pine tree, which you must climb 
or cut down (the latter process is easiest) to get your 
trout. Having then mercifully killed your fish, you 
extract his eyes, which prove a tempting morsel to his 
fellow-creatures. 

We caught as many trout as we wanted, and, know- 
ing it was useless following the moose down wind, 
climbed a ridge overlooking Bozeman's Canon, lay 
down in an open space, and went to sleep. A little be- 
fore sundown we awoke to the consciousness that some 
beast was making a strange and diabolical noise far 
down the canon. "What like beast is that?" drawls 
Campbell. "Don't know," said I ; "must be moose, I 
suppose, but I never heard one." 

At intervals of ten minutes the strange cry — a sort 
of cross between a roar, shriek, and whistle, as if a wild 
beast, an owl, a bull, and a locomotive were singing 
quartet — would swell up against the wind, gradually 
approaching. 

We waited as long as we dared, but saw nothing; 
and not relishing the idea of camping out on a cold 
night without blankets, and with nothing but trout 



826 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

without salt for supper, we started for camp, where, 
having detailed our experiences, we were told by the 
authorities that certainly we had heard a bull moose 
calling. 

Thus the next morning found us two, full of hope 
and porridge, making the best of our way to Surprise 
Lake, where we separated, taking opposite sides of the 
valley. 

For three or four hours I diligently quartered the 
ground, but not a fresh track did I see. The day was 
very still, hot for the time of year, and dull, with a 
sensation of coming thunder in the air ; and I began to 
feel quite drowsy, and oppressed with an uncomfort- 
able feeling of solitude, when I was startled into full 
wakefulness by the same unearthly noise proceeding 
as before from the lower end of the canon. Toned 
down and softened by distance, the cry came wailing 
up the valley, making my flesh creep — it sounded so 
mournful and yet so savage. Three times in perhaps 
half an hour I heard the cry, still at a long distance, 
but evidently approaching me; and this time down 
wind, for the breeze had changed. "Bound to get a 
shot this time," thought I to myself; and, selecting 
a nice convenient spot, I lay down and waited. 

]N[ot a sound for a long time broke the oppressive 
stillness of the air, but the dropping of an occasional 
fir cone or the fluttering fall of a dead leaf; and then 
a distant cry. Another long interval of silence ensued, 
broken by a crushing and tearing of something bulky 
through the brush; and instead of a moose out bursts 
Campbell. Scared and breathless, he exclaims, "What 
is it?" "What's what?" inquired I. "Why," he 
gasped, "I heard a most extraordinary yell ; it sounded 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 327 

like a man in distress calling for help." "You great 
idiot," said I, "there is a moose coming up the gulch 
calling, if you haven't frightened him out of the country 
by running through the woods in that fashion. 
Listen!" And, as I spoke, our ears were assailed by 
the same unearthly yell, a good deal nearer to us. It 
did sound partially human, but still it certainly was not 
that of a man. Legends of forest devils and Jibbon- 
ainosays flitted through my brain; and Indians, for a 
moment, I thought of, for they can and do make noises 
unutterably hideous; but there were no Indians in the 
country, and no sign of them. I glanced at Campbell, 
whose face looked quite white and anxious ; and Camp- 
bell looked at me, and I daresay I presented the same 
bewildered appearance. Be that as it may, I am sure 
we each felt glad that the other was present, for there 
was something very uncanny, devilish, and altogether 
uncomfortable in this unknown yell ringing through 
the forest. "There it is again!" we simultaneously ex- 
claimed, as the same quavering cry echoed through the 
woods, swelling into a roar and dying away in a shrill 
whistle or scream. This time it was answered a little 
above us. "There can be no doubt," said I ; "I know 
it is not a wapiti, neither is it a mountain lion. It is 
not exactly like what I imagined the call of a bull 
moose to be, but there is no other beast in the woods 
that could make such a noise. Let us wait for another 
call." Again came up the noise from the canon, 
answered as before. "You are right; it can be nothing 
else but moose," whispers Campbell; "two bulls; and 
the upper one is close to Surprise Lake. Come on; 
let us get up to him. They will be thinking of each 
other, and if we have luck we may get a shot at both." 



328 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

Accordingly, after taking off our coats, moccasins, and 
socks, we advanced, walking like Agag delicately, point- 
ing our naked toes like ballet-dancers, worming our 
way noiselessly through the trees without cracking a 
stick, rustling a leaf, or snapping a twig. 

Goodness! How anxious I was! I had killed all 
the principal beasts of the continent, except moose and 
caribou. The latter I anticipated no great difficulty in 
getting in Lower Canada; but the moose is nearly ex- 
tinct, save in the far-away swamps of the Peace River 
Valley ; and was I now to be so favored by the gods as 
to witness a fight between two bulls, and kill one, per- 
haps even both, of them? With stooped bodies, heads 
craned forward, scarcely venturing to draw breath 
through our dry, parched lips, inch by inch we noise- 
lessly advanced, treading softly on our bare feet, care- 
fully putting aside every twig and branch, and using 
extra caution as we neared the lake; presently we 
caught the glint of water through the trees. A pull 
at my shirt arrested me; and Campbell, putting his 
mouth to my ear, whispered, "I see the reflection of 
his antlers moving in the water." Motionless as 
statues we stood for a few seconds, then gently dropped 
on our knees, when I too saw the reflection of some- 
thing pass across the surface, followed by a slight splash 
in the water and cracking in the bushes. "Feeding on 
the water-lilies," gurgles Campbell, shaking with sup- 
pressed excitement. I too felt quite ill, but bottled-up 
my feelings and said nothing, my attention being too 
much taken up by the peculiar color I saw reflected in 
the lake. Craning my neck a little further forward, I 
perceived it distinctly. "Why, Campbell," I said, 
"it's blue! Who ever heard of a blue moose?" An- 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 329 

other inch or two forward, and I turned my expressive 
eyes on Campbell, whose responsive orbs spoke volumes 
of unutterable words. "Durn the trout, they ain't 
biting worth a cent," we heard; and there, placidly un- 
conscious, stood a free and independent citizen in a 
pair of blue military pants, fishing for trout with a 
young pine tree! He had come up from the saw- 
mill below to get a dish of fish. "I think," said I, "we 
had better go back and put on our shoes and stockings ; 
this gentleman might wonder what we were doing 
without them." As we turned, the same unearthly 
yell rolled up from the canon, answered by a horrid 
howl from our friend in blue, and followed by a 
muttered inquiry as to what the bad-worded fool meant 
by losing himself, and making such a bad-worded row 
in the bad-worded woods for. 

We did not hunt moose any more that day. 

We remained about a week on Trail Creek, and ex- 
plored the country thoroughly. Every day two of us 
took the valleys, and scratched our way through the 
matted pine woods, or floundered about among the 
swamps; and the other two went up the ridges and 
hunted the tops for sheep. But as none of us got a 
shot, or ever saw anything, we got tired of it. The 
weather too was turning very stormy; winter was 
evidently close at hand, and we therefore determined 
to give it up. A slight fall of snow we had been pray- 
ing for, but it appeared likely now that we might get 
too much. Day by day the sun sank in heavier and 
wilder-looking banks. The weather was exceedingly 
hot and oppressive, a condition of atmosphere that 
surely indicates the approach of a decided change ; and, 
as we had no mind to undertake a stage journey in 



330 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

deep snow, we bade adieu to hunting, broke camp, and 
went into Fort Ellis. 

There we were received with the greatest kindness 
by General Sweitzer and the officers of the garrison, 
whose hospitality we enjoyed for three days, while we 
were occupied in disposing of our stock and settling up 
matters in general. 

It was a stormy day on which, with great regret, we 
left Fort Ellis and the pretty little town of Bozeman; 
and it was snowing heavily and bitterly cold when we 
drove into Virginia City, where we remained two days, 
and then took the stage for Corinne. 

Oh that drive! Can I ever forget it? It occurs to 
my mind like the memory of some horrid dream — some 
dreadful nightmare. Four days and four nights in the 
interior of that vehicle ; worse a great deal than Jonah's 
three in the whale's belly; — four mortal days and 
nights going 340 miles, or thereabouts. We got on 
pretty well for the first two days, thanks to the un- 
failing cheerfulness and indomitable good-humor of 
Jack; but the third night was very severe, and on the 
fourth our miseries culminated, and we collapsed. 

The road was over a level plain of soft clayey soil, 
recently flooded with torrents of rain. It was cut into, 
not ruts merely, but trenches, by the heavy ox-teams 
carrying northern freights. There were great holes in 
it feet deep. Over or through this we were somehow 
dragged by four horses, at a rate of about two and a 
half miles per hour during the whole night. The 
coach, as I think I have before stated, was an old- 
fashioned, leathern inconveniency slung on straps; and 
the way that engine of torture jerked, kicked, plunged, 
and pitched us about is past all telling. Wynne, being 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 331 

a man of fine proportions, and moreover dressed in 
ulsters and other voluminous garments, jammed him- 
self between the back and middle seats, and got a little 
sleep; while Kingsley sat in the opposite back corner, 
half asleep from sheer fatigue, his head wobbling and 
chucking from side to side in a manner that must have 
severely tried the toughness of his neck. His face wore 
an expression of stolidly calm indifference; but an evi- 
dence of internal suffering was occasionally jerked from 
between his chattering teeth in the shape of an explosive 
d n. There was a moral force, emphasis, and en- 
ergy about that monosyllable that signified more than a 
whole column of strong language. 

Jack sat beside me on the front seat, his six feet of 
lissom frame tied and knotted up into inextricable con- 
fusion, his head appearing in strange and unexpected 
places, hands and feet turning up promiscuously, and 
without the slightest regard to the anatomical positions 
which they are usually supposed to occupy. He would 
fall over asleep on my shoulder, and the next moment 
I would awake to the consciousness that his toe was in- 
truding into my mouth ; or, if he lay in the other direc- 
tion, with his feet in my lap, I would be astonished to 
find him grabbing wildly at my hair to prevent himself 
falling into the bottom of the coach. Jack, best and 
cheeriest of companions, was for once out of humor. 
Fervent and frequent were his praye;s, having reference 
to the future condition of driver, horses, coach, road, 
those that made it, the teams that had cut it up, and 
everything and everybody that had to do with the line. 
But swearing did not last long. Things soon got too 
bad for that. Language, even the most violent lan- 
guage, is quite inadequate to express one's feelings on 



332 HUNTING IN THE YELLOWSTONE 

certain occasions. No one knows what mean, weak, 
and sickly things are mere words until he has stubbed 
his toe against the leg of a chair in the dark, or has be- 
come utterly fretful and demoralized by such a stage 
journey as we had to undergo. Hindostanee might 
possibly be of service if thoroughly understood and judi- 
ciously employed; but English is of no use whatever; 
and we soon gave up the attempt to express our senti- 
ments, and relapsed into and maintained a gloomy 
silence. 

As for me, I endeavored to sit still in my corner ; but, 
being of a light frame and spare body, I found that, 
not being provided with any suction apparatus in those 
parts, my efforts were unavailing, and I spent most of 
the night bounding about the coach like a pea on a 
drum, causing much dissatisfaction to myself and my 
fellow-travelers. If I did lie down across the front 
and middle seat, not being stout enough to stick be- 
tween them like Wynne, I speedily doubled up, feet 
and head together, and fell through after the manner 
of a clown in a pantomime, who, lying on his back 
across a barrel, and being smitten violently on the 
stomach, folds up and collapses therein. I soon got 
beyond the consolations of swearing, and confess that I 
felt more inclined to cry than to do anything else. 

But all things come to an end ; and at length, tired, 
sulky, and giddy, we arrived at Corinne eighteen hours 
late, and just in time to step on board a train bound 
east. 

How luxurious appeared the Pullman car, how 
smooth the motion, how soft the cushions, how snug 
the beds ! With what awe did our unaccustomed eyes 
regard the ladies! How gorgeous they appeared, how 



BIGHORN AND A "BLUE MOOSE" 333 

graceful they were, how marvelous their costumes, and 
how stupendous their back hair! How extraordinary 
seemed the harmonium, and the singing thereto! 
How full of pictures were the periodicals, how full of 
lies the newspapers! How clean one felt in a "boiled 
rag" and fresh suit of clothes, and how sound we all 
slept that night! 

Having now fairly returned to civilization, I must 
say good-by, reluctant to banish from memory the 
souvenirs of an extremely pleasant tour. At this dis- 
tance of time, the recollections of annoyances and dis- 
comforts have faded and grown dim, and scarcely cast 
a shadow across the bright and happy memories that 
crowd my brain. Could I but transcribe and paint the 
scenes and pictures that pass before me when I shut 
my eyes and think, I should, I am sure, induce some of 
my readers to spend a holiday in those far-away 
Western wilds, and to make a pilgrimage to The Great 
Divide. 



THE END. 



OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY — NEW YORK 




OUTING 
ADVENTURE 
LIBRARY 

Edited by Horace Kephart 

Here are brought together for 
the first time the great stories of 
adventure of all ages and countries. 
These are the personal records of 
the men who climbed the mountains, penetrated the 
jungles, explored the seas and crossed the desert; who 
knew the chances and took them, and lived to write 
their own tales of hardship, endurance and achievement. 
The series will consist of an indeterminate number of 
volumes — for the stories are myriad. The whole will be 
edited by Horace Kephart. Each volume answers the 
test of these questions: Is it true? Is it interesting? 
The entire series is uniform in style and binding. 
Among the titles now ready or in preparation are those 
described on the following pages. Price $1.00 each, 
net. Postage 10 cents extra. 

IN THE OLD WEST, by George Frederick 
Ruxton. The men who blazed the trail across the 
Rockies to the Pacific were independent trappers and 
hunters in the days before the Mexican war. They 
left no records of their adventures and most of them 
linger now only as shadowy names. But a young Eng- 
lishman lived among them for a time, saw life from 
their point of view, trapped with them and fought with 
them against the Indians. That was George Frederick 
Ruxton. His story is our only complete picture of the 
Old West in the days of the real pioneers, of Kit 
Carson, Jim Bridger, Bill Williams, the Sublettes, and 
all the rest of that glorious company of the forgotten 
who opened the West. 



13 



OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY — NEW YORK 

CASTAWAYS AND CRUSOES. Since the 
beginning of navigation men have faced the dangers of 
shipwreck and starvation. Scattered through the an- 
nals of the sea are the stories of those to whom disaster 
came and the personal records of the way they met it. 
Some of them are given in this volume, narratives of 
men who lived by their hands among savages on for- 
lorn coasts, or drifted helpless in open boats. They 
range from the South Seas to the Gulf of St. Lawrence, 
from Patagonia to Cuba. They are echoes from the 
days when the best that could be hoped by the man 
who went to sea was hardship and man's-sized work. 

CAPTIVES AMONG THE INDIANS. 

First of all is the story of Captain James Smith, who 
was captured by the Delawares at the time of Brad- 
dock's defeat, was adopted into the tribe, and for four 
years lived as an Indian, hunting with them, studying 
their habits, and learning their point of view. Then 
there is the story of Father Bressani who felt the tor- 
tures of the Iroquois, of Mary Rowlandson who was 
among the human spoils of King Philip's war, and of 
Mercy Harbison who suffered in the red flood that fol- 
lowed St. Clair's defeat. All are personal records made 
by the actors themselves in those days when the Indian 
was constantly at our forefather's doors. 

FIRST THROUGH THE GRAND CAN- 
YON, by Major John Wesley Powell. Major 

Powell was an officer in the Union Army who lost an 
arm at Shiloh. In spite of this, four years after the war 
he organized an expedition which explored the Grand 
Canyon of the Colorado in boats — the first to make this 
journey. His story has been lost for years in the 
oblivion of a scientific report. It is here rescued and 
presented as a record of one of the great personal ex- 
ploring feats, fitted to rank with the exploits of Pike, 
Lewis and Clark, and Mackenzie. 



U 



OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY — NEW YORK 

ADRIFT IN THE ARCTIC ICE-PACK, by 
Dr. Elisha Kent Kane. Dr. Kane was connected 
with one of the numerous relief expeditions which went 
north in the middle of the last century, sailing from 
New York early in the spring of 1849. They found 
themselves caught in the ice of Lancaster Sound early 
in the fall and spent the entire winter driving to and 
fro across the Sound frozen fast in the ice-pack. Dr. 
Kane's narrative gives the most vivid and accurate ac- 
count that has ever appeared of ship life during an arc- 
tic winter. He contributes many important observations 
as to ice and weather conditions. His picture of the 
equipment and provisions makes rather strange reading 
in the light of our modern development for exploration 
purposes. 

THE LION HUNTER, by Ronalyn Gor- 
don-Cumming. The author was an Englishman who 
was among the first of the now numerous tribe of 
sportsmen writers. Going out to South Africa in the 
early half of the last century he found a hunting field 
as yet untouched; antelope roamed the plains like cattle 
on a western range and lions were almost as numerous 
as coyotes in the old cattle days. In the course of his 
wanderings with the handful of natives, he penetrated 
the far interior of Africa and finally encountered Living- 
ston. His account of his experiences with dangerous 
game armed only with the old-fashioned muzzle-loaded 
rifles makes the exploits of modern sportsmen seem 
almost puny in their safety. 

HOBART PASHA, by Augustus Charles 
Hobart-Hampden. Recollections of one of the most 
remarkable men of the 19th century. He served in the 
English Navy from 1835-1863, after which he engaged 
in blockade running in the interest of the Confederacy, 
in the prosecution of which he had many close shaves 
but was never caught. He then entered the Turkish 
navy, built it up and fought against the Russians. The 
whole book is filled with thrilling adventures and nar- 
row escapes. 



as 



OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY — NEW YORK 

ADVENTURES IN MEXICO, by George 
Frederick Ruxton. This volume describes Ruxton's 
second visit to America, but this time he landed at 
Vera Cruz, from where he went to Mexico City and 
thence north to the American border. Mexico was 
then at war with the United States, bandits roamed over 
the country right up to the gates of the capital, and 
Indians infested the northern part. Still he made the 
journey of 2,000 miles, often alone, experiencing many 
exciting adventures. 

WILD LIFE IN THE ROCKY MOUN- 
TAINS, by George Frederick Ruxton. A con- 
tinuation of Ruxton's ADVENTURES IN MEXICO, 
from Chihuahua north. In the course of his journey 
he had to pass through treeless deserts, where he suf- 
fered much from lack of water; spent the winter in the 
Rocky Mountains and finally crossed the United States 
boundary. 

*THE GOLD HUNTER, by J. D. Borth- 

wick. He was an English artist who joined the rush 
of treasurer seekers to California in 1851. It is a lively 
description of the voyage via Panama, of San Francisco 
from its days of the bowie-knife and top-boots to its 
development into an orderly community, of life (and 
death) in "the diggings" and of the motely gathering 
of all nationalities in town and camp, their toil, sports, 
virtues, crimes and shifting fortunes. The book covers 
the period from 1851-1856. 

GREAT DIVIDE, THE, by Earl Dunraven. 
Sport and travel in the Upper Yellowstone in the sum- 
mer of 1874 with George Kingsley and Texas Jack. 
Stalking the wapiti and bighorn, encounters with griz- 
zlies, camp life at its best and worst, Indians and 
frontiersmen, the joys of wild life and the pathos of it, 
the crest of the continent and the vales of "Wonder- 
land," all are depicted by the Earl of Dunraven. 

LIFE AMONG THE APACHES, by John 
C. Cremony. He was interpreter of the United States 
Boundary Commission and served against the Indians 
as Major of a California regiment during the Civil War. 
His personal encounters with the Apaches were of the 
most desperate nature. 

16 



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